To Belong
by BringTheHawt
Summary: Chapter 8: Elizabeth and Booker attempt to work out their issues and frustrations. Two criminals share a dramatic confrontation. Booker/Elizabeth. Warnings: M/F, F/F, oral, virgin, incest, etc.
1. Chapter 1

Elizabeth had remained outside the lighthouse, unable to watch Booker's unwitting sacrifice. She was keenly aware of Comstock's disappearance from time itself; erased from countless destinies.

She waited for release.

...

None came.

"I ... still exist," she whispered to herself, tugging at the sleeve of her own dress. Elizabeth had fully expected to blink from existence, along with many of her parallel sisters. Perhaps it was that unique ability of hers. Had her fully realized power allowed her to transcend time itself?

Her survival felt quite disconcerting. She wasn't sure if she wanted to remain, knowing that her version of Dewitt would no longer recognize her properly as Elizabeth. Anna, of course, remained ... but every Elizabeth had vanished into nothingness, much like Comstock. She was the one to break the cycle, but the achievement had left her standing outside one of million of lighthouses, alone ... with no version of Dewitt, Comstock or Songbird to acknowledge her.

With her survival, she harbored the only evidence of Comstock's prophetic obsessions and Booker's wretched betrayal: memories.

"I don't belong anywhere anymore ... " as tears formed in topaz-colored eyes.

Two familiar voices emerged from behind her.

"Correct," said Rosalind, "you belong no where."

"Incorrect," refuted Robert, "you belong _any_where."

She turned to confront the two insufferably odd siblings.

"It is within your power to choose" Rosalind declared, "a type of decision we are quite familiar with."

"A type of decision we are rather intimate with."

"What sort of decision will you make, with such power?"

"What sort of decision would he make, if he had such power?"

Elizabeth's gaze locked onto Robert, after that last cryptic comment. She imagined there was a hint of a smile on his face, but couldn't be sure.

**ooooooooooo**

**ooooooooooo**

Elizabeth manifested a tear within _his_ apartment. Yes, him. She had always been hopelessly drawn to him, ever since the first day of their reunion in Columbia.

Though she, of course, anticipated the poor condition of said apartment, it still managed to surprise her. Some unclean dishes, scattered papers, a floor that probably hadn't been washed in a year. Various beer cans, some half-full, some empty. Sparse, cheap furtniture.

Elizabeth could hear Dewitt, who remained unaware of her presence, singing softly to ... Anna, in the next room. The pretty prodigy leaned against his desk, listening to his song. He certainly didn't make for a very good singer, she decided.

Eventually, DeWitt discreetly stepped out of Anna's room, wishing his daughter would stay asleep. The sight of the pretty, dark-haired intruder made him pause.

Elizabeth sighed softly, at him. She had known he'd be drunk prior to producing the tear to this plane of existence, but seeing it in person still ... hurt. DeWitt was a failure of a father behind many, many doors. She keenly understood that the man was deeply flawed; denying Comstock's existence did not free Booker of the violent sins of the past, nor did it ward off his heart-gnawing nightmares.

"Listen, miss ... you clearly have the wrong apartment," Dewitt incorrectly informed her.

"You're bleeding, Mr. DeWitt," she murmured softly.

Booker touched the skin above his own lip to confirm her words.

Elizabeth stepped to him, removing a hankerchief from her dress, to dab at the drops of blood on his face. She briefly mused over how handsome he was ... it was especially hard to ignore now that she had witnessed parallels were they had developed _sensual_ relationships.

"Miss ... how'd you get into my apartment?" Though he found this stranger's boldness rather odd, he ultimately couldn't complain about a beautiful girl gently touching his face.

"I picked the lock," a playful lie. She folded the hankerchief and replaced it in the pocket of her skirt.

"Miss ... is the bruise on your face a result of your ... blatant disregard for other people's personal property?" The detective kept his tone soft to make it clear he wasn't making some sort of subtle threat ... Booker was simply trying to imagine a situation where one could justify striking such a pretty, petite lady.

Elizabeth made a silent prayer:_ Remember me ..._

"I saved you from millions of tragic destinies, Mr. DeWitt," taking another step forward, standing within inches of him, "have you truly forgotten me? Have you forgotten what gave me this bruise? Have you forgotten ... " as she lifted her thimble-encased pinky upward, "how I got this?"

"Who are you?" Booker breathed, bemused.

After months of pining for DeWitt, the confused look on his face felt like a vicious betrayal. Elizabeth's anger flared irrationally, and she suddenly found the scent of alcohol on his breath particularly unforgiveable.

"You don't deserve her ... "

" ... What?"

"Are you doomed to fail Anna again? Look at you ... so incredibly selfish. Not a single child's toy in this pathetic little apartment but apparently an ample supply of liquor."

The ex-soldier's expression hardened as suspicious anger stirred within him. _Why does she know Anna's name ... ? What is she even talking about?_

"I'm going have to ask you to leave, miss," he announced firmly.

"Ask all you like," she challenged rebelliously, "I'm staying."

Frustrated, Booker's hand snapped forward with surprising speed, fixing a firm hold on her wrist. Elizabeth had nearly ripped open a tear to flee into. Remarkable self-control had kept her from doing so, but she couldn't conceal her desperate, worried look. It was such a twist: before achieving her full powers, Booker had been the only man she ever trusted to protect her ... now he was the only man capable of harming her.

The sight of her expression forced a pause from Booker, but his anger persisted.

"I forgot about your inclination toward violence, Mr. DeWitt," she softly spoke the accusation.

"I'm not going to hurt you-"

"-this hurts ... "

"-Just want you to go.-"

"-This _hurts_." Not the hand on her wrist, of course, but this rejection. Booker mistakenly assumed she meant the apparent bruising on her body, forcing the brute's heart to soften. It was something about those blue eyes gazing into his own. He realized they looked just like his daughter's, only ...

"You ... shouldn't have eyes like that. You're too young to have eyes like that," Booker commented gravely, releasing her wrist. Lonely eyes. Eyes that have seen death. Eyes that were too wise, too harsh.

The irony nearly made the pale-skinned enigma laugh. In more ways than one, he had given her such eyes.

"Listen," Booker spoke sympathetically, examining the bruise on her cheek and the tears in her clothes, "I don't recognize you, nor I do not appreciate you barging in here lecturing me about my daughter, but ... you're clearly ... in some kind of trouble. Who hurt you? I can ... make sure it doesn't happen again." She must have come for help, and Booker, even with his new career as a private investigator, had no problem straightening out ... hell, even killing, men who thought it was acceptable to strike a defenseless woman.

_There you are ... There's the man who'd protect me ... _

"I'm certainly troubled, Mr. DeWitt ... " taking advantage of their close proximity, she lifted her hand to touch his cheek.

Booker wasn't immune to the beautiful girl. That bodice certainly emphasized her enticing body ... and her face was lovely, despite the bruising. Gorgeous eyes and incredible lips. DeWitt imagined those lips on his body ... thinking these months he had spent without a woman's touch were truly beginning to weigh on him.

_This girl needs help_ ... he reminded himself. And she was possibly two full decades younger than him. And he was ... a shell of a man, at best. The stunning beauty deserved better.

"It's fine, if you don't have money ... " as the ex-Pinkerton pulled back from her touch, trying to force lustful thoughts from his mind, "I don't need payment. Just need the man's name and address. I'll fix your problem, then you can be on your way."

Elizabeth wasn't sure if she should be amused or insulted by Booker's assumption that she was attempting to prostitute herself for his services.

"My problem, Booker" grabbing onto the fabric of his shirt, pressing into his body, "is that I don't belong; fix it," before, almost shyly, brushing her lips against his, "please."

oooooooo

Strong arms. Elizabeth may have considered them his most attractive feature. They had effortlessly carried her to his bedroom, laying her down on the bed.

She was quite a gem and DeWitt was determined to thoroughly pleasure her. He licked her neck before moving to kiss the portions of her breasts that peeked out of her bodice. His fingers, at her backside and beneath her blue shawl, began to tug at the strings of the fabric which encased her chest.

A realization caused his hand and mouth to pause: he still didn't know her name.

"What's your name, miss?" looking to her blushing face.

" ... Elizabeth."

"You're beautiful, Elizabeth," he complimented quietly. Booker would never fully understand how fulfilling it was for her to hear him say those words.

Her bodice, shawl and stockings were removed. DeWitt chose to leave the skirt on, for now, finding it enhanced her femininity nicely. It was a delicious image: full breasts, pink nipples and a slender abdomen ... with that dark blue skirt hiding her otherwise bare womanhood. The sight made his prick hard.

"Booker ... " she sighed softly, hands gripping onto his shoulders.

DeWitt lifted her skirt, moving his face to her pick cunny. She nearly asked him to stop, face becoming pink with embarrassment. She chose to hold her tongue, and found the physical rewards of enduring the shame to be well worth it. The ex-soldier alternated between tenderly licking and roughly sucking at her clit. He continued to do this until his gorgeous maiden moaned quietly.

Booker was starting to realize she was rather ... inexperienced. He thought it certainly odd. She had initiated this lustful encounter so brazenly it was difficult to accept her rather modest reaction to his movements. Had they ... met before, as she claimed earlier? Was she acting on a desire that extended beyond his knowledge?

DeWitt stopped playing with her clit to examine her womanly entrance. He used his fingers to spread her cuntlips apart, finding the fleshy evidence of just how inexperienced she was.

"You're a virgin ... " A bit saddened by the truth, actually. He pulled back form her, moving to align their upper bodies back together so he could look into her stunning eyes. "Why do you want this ... with a man like me?" Sinful. Despicable. Significantly older than her and a father on top of that. Also partially drunk. There were many reasons why he should stop this lusty encounter.

"Just continue, Booker," almost angrily, "I've wanted ... this, for longer than you realize."

"You say things that don't make sense. You still think we've met before?"

She pulled her gaze away, staring at his bedroom wall. He continued to look at her, thinking she still managed to be beautiful despite her intensely irritated expression.

" ... You're not going to hate me in the morning, are you? You only get to do this once, Elizabeth ..."

"Please, just ... I want it to be you, Booker," turning to reunite their eyes, she seductively reached her arms around his neck, pulling him close, "no one else. Now, please, I don't want to discuss it anymore."

"This will likely hurt," he told her as he scolded himself mentally, thinking he was about to desecrate an extremely confused virgin. He sighed, kissing that slender neck. The ex-soldier felt Elizabeth's fingers fumbling with the buttons of her vest, perhaps deciding she no longer wanted to be the only one half-naked.

Together they removed his clothes. Elizabeth found herself rather infatuated with his body. Muscular. His tanned skin was peppered with scars. The ultimate compliment to her pale, petite body. Those pretty eyes spared a look at his hardened shaft, wondering how it'd feel pressed inside her. It was Elizabeth's first time seeing one in person, and the mere sight of it caused a stir in her pussy.

"You're staring," he noted. Can't say he wasn't turned on by her blatant lust.

"I want you ... " she whispered.

Booker adjusted her dress skirt and pulled that pretty body into his lap. He began caressing her all over. Her back and arms, her legs and thighs. He spent extra time on her breasts: squeezing them firmly, tugging them lightly. The physically sensitive virgin sighed softly from the sensual stimulation. She occasionally kissed and licked his shoulder, but was passively allowing him to massage her body until she felt warm and pliant.

Elizabeth felt his manhood press between her thighs.

"I'm ready," she urged.

With some position adjusting and prodding, he began to spear into her ridiculously tight canal. Elizabeth attempted to silently endure the meaty intrusion into her body, hoping to avoid discouraging her conflicted lover, but she couldn't hold back a sharp, loud groan. Her body, which DeWitt had worked so wonderfully, now tensed and spasmed around that cockhead lodged inside her.

"Relax," Booker instructed, gritting his teeth. There was a dark moment, a moment where the urge to shove into her wildly and relentlessly was quite powerful, but sensibility and concern quickly returned to him. Still, her womanly grip on his prick made him strain. He was massaging her body again, with a weak hope to steer her toward pleasure.

As the pain of DeWitt's cock ripping open her previously untouched barrier subsided, she noticed the sticky feeling on her thighs. She was very grateful her skirt was left on ... preventing her from seeing the evidence of this first penetration inside her.

"Move ... " She implored.

"You sure?"

"Please."

Booker's prick began to climb deeper inside her. Warm and tight. They both moaned softly when he implanted himself as fully as possible.

"You feel amazing, Elizabeth," he murmured, taking a moment to enjoy the feel of her passage around his engorged dick-length. She squirmed slightly, making his dick twitch.

"Again ... " She commanded softly. He obliged her, starting to pump into her at a smooth pace. He used his arms and hips to facilitate long, consistent thrusts ... and treasured the way this dark-haired beauty gasped and trembled by his movements.

Elizabeth's discomfort finally subsided. She spread her legs as far as possible to take in his delicious, powerful plunges inside her. The dainty woman was now beginning to truly embrace the throes of her climbing pleasure. That fleshy pole pierced her over and over, and an incredible throb was enveloping her pussy. She was moaning repeatedly now, unable to focus on anything but the way her handsome father stuffed himself into her.

Realizing that Elizabeth was now genuinely enjoying the sex, Booker pulled out of her.

"What are you-"

DeWitt interrupted her with a soft hush as he eased her body flat onto the bed. He looked into her eyes, half-lidded and lustful, before firmly shoving his prick inside her. The sweet sound of her gasp encouraged him. Booker gripped the underside of her legs, pulling them upward and began to thrust vigorously into her. This position allowed him to observe the pleasured expressions on her face, as well as the bouncing of her perky, pale breasts ... two equally gorgeous images.

Elizabeth's moist pussy gripped and squeezed him wonderfully. These fast, firm thrusts made her groan wildly. She did the best she could to roll her hips in time with his erotic plunging.

Booker's swollen dick was pulsing in that narrow tunnel. Her eager acceptance of his deep, ravenous pistoning was bringing him close. Their union was incredible, and plugging his prick into her felt like a natural fit. He groaned as his orgasm approached. It was too much to hold back anymore: the confined, sticky feel of her cunt, the way the stunning girl arched with his motions, their groans and pants ...

DeWitt, with a powerful shudder, pulled out of her and burst into the sheets, deciding not lewdly soil her for her first experience.

"Booker ... " She called to him softly ... he briefly thought it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. DeWitt crawled on top of her, leaning down to tenderly kiss those perfect lips. He decided if this beauty was still in his arms in the morning, he'd use whatever technique needed to make this gorgeous girl cum.

ooooooooooo

Booker had left the room without a word. Elizabeth felt a little confused and hurt by his absence, but smiled when he returned with a small bowl of warm water, soap and a washcloth. Without speaking, DeWitt helped her remove her skirt and began to clean the vestal blood from between her thighs. The action initially made her feel shy, but her guardian touched her so gently that it drove away her anxieties. Booker DeWitt: a man capable of incredible brutality and remarkable tenderness.

Elizabeth briefly wondered if this attraction to him was inappropriate. But perhaps, if you spend your life locked within a tower and away from society, you're no longer subject to the ideas of social norms and deviances.

When he was finished washing her, he returned to the bed, laying on his back. She moved to rest on top of him, pressing her cheek into his chest affectionately.

"Did you seduce me ... because you have no where else to go?" He asked aloud, wrapping an arm around her petite shoulders. He looked down at her body, noting an odd puncture wound in her upper back. He briefly wondered if a relative had been abusing her ...

Elizabeth wondered how he'd react if she touched one of his scars and whispered the words 'Wounded Knee.' Would he believe her, then?

"I don't want to be anywhere else," she responded quietly.

"Such a strange girl," Booker commented, patting her shoulder, "but you can stay as long as you need." He made the offer truly believing she did not feel safe anywhere else. In a sense, he was correct. Still, he couldn't imagine such a young beauty staying too long. He was a lucky dog just to enjoy this single night with her ...

The sound of Anna crying emerged from the other room.

Booker tensed before looking to Elizabeth with a mildly embarrassed look. He considered abandoning a woman so quickly after sex to be an act of poor taste, but ... his daughter needed him.

"I gotta go to her ... "

A stunning smile formed from those pretty lips; she certainly couldn't fault him for making such a decision.

ooooooooooo

**Authors Note:** Bioshock Infinite was such an excellent game that I felt compelled to write this. I'm interested in making a slightly kinkier chapter two if there's any interest in one! Would love to see some reviews. Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** First, thanks for the reviews and votes! It feels great knowing people enjoy your work.

A few people requested a full story so I decided to incorporate some plot. If you're just looking for the sexing, skip to the last scene. :D

**oooooooooooooo**

Elizabeth didn't know the future of this tear. She could not fathom why, either. Her powers could pierce through multiple dimensions, allowing her to peek and venture wherever she wished. And yet, this tear she had chosen for herself had kept its secrets of the future from her.

The infant's cries had stirred Elizabeth from the depths of slumber. She had silently left Booker's bed, careful not to wake him, to check on the troubled infant. The dark-haired beauty put on a button-down shirt she found hanging in DeWitt's closest, for lack of anything else to wear, before venturing to Anna's ridiculously tiny nursery room.

Sad little room. Possessed nothing more than a crib.

She stepped to the crib and gazed down to Anna. The sight of the younger version of herself filled her with both anxiety and affection.

_What if I stay ... ?_ She wondered, gripping the side of the crib. _ I could ... help Booker raise her ... He certainly needs me, she'll need me. I can stay... I can help them, and have a normal life. Just as I always wanted. _

The truth was motherhood had been something she constantly dreamed when she was imprisoned in Colombia. A child to teach, to hold, to laugh with, to love. A child that belonged to her.

Elizabeth reached into the crib to lift Anna and held her gently.

Yes, Anna had a true mother... Booker's lost wife. She had been a client of Booker's: a widow. They both had been so desperate and lonely that they had turned to each other for comfort. Their lustful mistake soon swelled within the widow's body. Booker married her as a result. Yes, they had feelings for each other, feelings that, in some parallels, would blossom into love ... but ultimately the marriage was agreed upon due to their mutual sense of duty to the unborn child. To Anna.

Her true mother's name had been Alice, in this particular reality. Elizabeth had to peek through hundreds of doors to see a glimpse of what her life would have been like if Alice had survived the childbirth. Yet, even in many of those doors, Alice would often die before Anna's third birthday. Elizabeth couldn't understand why her mother possessed so many sorrowful destinies, and eventually found herself unable to investigate the woman further. Its as though fate had chosen to force Booker to endure the difficulties of fatherhood and aging alone, and Alice was simply an unfortunate victim of the ex-soldier's predetermined misery.

Despite her gentle touch and soft whispers, Anna's crying persisted. Perhaps she should feed her ...

The sound of the nursery door opening behind her. For a brief second she wondered if Booker would be angry at all that she touched his child without his permission or supervision ...

"I apologize for touching her. I-"

She turned to face the room's newest occupant, expecting Booker, but the view of a man, a man that very much wasn't Booker, forced a startled pause from her.

"Oh, that's quite all right," the intruder responded with a bit of a smirk, accepting the apology he fully knew wasn't meant for him.

The man, regardless of personal intent, was a rather intimidating image. The stranger was _tall_. Well over six foot. Certainly taller than Booker. Possibly one of the tallest men she had ever seen. She may have considered him handsome if his deeds and odd demeanor weren't so incredibly bold and off-putting. Light blonde hair, broad-shouldered, oxford glasses, a tasteful suit with a matching homburg hat.

_Some kind of debt-collecter_ ... she realized. Due to his sheer size alone, she pegged the mysterious man as a brute, even if the evidence of a muscular form was well-hidden underneath layers of fabric. She quickly recognized why this man was specifically chosen to collect from Booker: _They sent a beast to handle a beast..._

"Forgive me," he requested, feigning manners by removing his hat, "didn't expect to find such a lovely flower in this dark little hole."

"And what _were_ you expecting to find, in another man's apartment?" Elizabeth quipped sharply, finding his attempt to charm her particularly distasteful.

The large man emitted a mirthful huff, before a single step allowed him to close the gap of the tiny room. The observant girl noticed the shift of his gray eyes toward the infant squirming in her arms. Elizabeth instinctively twisted her upper body to protectively hold Anna away from the odd man's piercing gaze. The act brought another smirk to the intruder's face.

"While I am aware of Mr. DeWitt's savage reputation," eyeing the bruising on her face, "I didn't imagine he'd resort to abusing such a delicate young woman."

Elizabeth was torn between barking out a denial or calling out for Booker. She knew her unique powers could easily remove the man from DeWitt's apartment should this bastard attempt to touch either herself or Anna, but she considered it a last resort. She couldn't imagine being able to claim the normal life she had been fantasizing over if she made blatant use of her powers ... hopefully, this encounter wouldn't warrant such a desperate retaliation.

She finally chose to simply glare at the over-sized intruder, but this only encouraged the strange man to explore the subject further.

"Perhaps you're the sort of woman who enjoys such aggressions," he accused mockingly, taking the time to enjoy the sight of her body: petite but curvy. The intruder couldn't help but wonder if their disproportionate sizes could lead to some intensely erotic exchanges between the pair of them ...

With the bold man's close proximity, Elizabeth suddenly became very conscious of how under-dressed she was. The only piece of fabric on her entire body was Booker's dress-shirt, which barely extended to her mid-thigh. She disregarded her own discomfort before the situation could make her blush.

"Leave. Now," she insisted firmly, "I do not appreciate it when strangers act familiar with me."

"Perhaps introductions are in order then. My name is Noah Reed-"

"-You're a debt-collector," she interrupted.

"I prefer the term negotiator," Noah corrected casually, "my services extend beyond debt collection, though I do admit that happens to be my purpose here today. Tell me, my dear, have you any idea how much debt Mr. DeWitt has incurred with that nasty gambling addiction of his?"

"Enough to hire a well-dressed thug to break into his home to claim it?"

The Negotiator chuckled. Noah Reed certainly found himself intrigued. Most women would have screamed or attempted escape in this sort of situation ... but here this dainty little morsel was, matching his eyes with glares and returning his words with insults, all while cradling an infant. Such an impressive spirit. Reed observed the woman's pretty blue eyes for a quiet moment.

"Mind clarifying something for me?" Reed requested smoothly, and proceeded before another insult could pass through the spunky woman's lips, "to my knowledge, Booker DeWitt's wife is dead. Yet in his home I find a mysterious young woman who bares a striking resemblance to his only known child. Are you somehow related to Mr. DeWitt or his late wife?"

Elizabeth hissed her response: "I fail to see how such information would help you collect your debt-"

"-_DeWitt_'s debt, not mine," the unnerving man corrected, "I handle my own finances responsibly."

"You'll receive no information from me, Mr. Reed," she promised, "and you've overstayed your welcome."

"Mm," he sighed, taking a moment to examine her resolute expression, "I'm occasionally sympathetic to the debtors I've been hired to collect from ... excessive medical bills, unforeseen disasters, unexpected unemployment. I can't say Mr. DeWitt and his self-imposed destitution ranks on the list. From what I've heard, the man would sell his own mother to enjoy a night of high-stakes gambling ... "

Elizabeth grimaced. The infuriating man's words pierced her more deeply than he could have imagined.

Noah considered her obvious discomfort an opportunity. The Negotiator moved even closer to her, and the frustrated brunette found herself backing up against the wall to prevent their bodies from touching. Their position was practically ... intimate, made particularly deplorable by the fact that she was half-naked with no appropriate undergarments. Then there was the fact that the man's abdomen was nearly touching the crying infant in her arms ... It was suddenly a struggle for Elizabeth not to forcefully remove this man from DeWitt's apartment using her tears.

"That miserable sot doesn't deserve such a treasure," as the man brazenly leaned forward, resting his forearm along the wall beside Elizabeth's head, "why choose a man who cannot properly provide for a woman? A violent, hollow, penniless drunk ... "

"I suppose you want to recommend yourself as a more worthy suitor," she retorted, furious blue eyes boring into Noah's confident expression. The man had been studying her lips and jawline as she spoke ... "You're a despicable man, Mr. Reed."

"Forgive my boldness," he murmured as that half-smirk returned to his face, blatantly ignoring her threat, "but you're rather beautiful. I've come today to discuss a potential installment plan for Mr. DeWitt's debts ... I'd be more than willing to accept your company as the first of his payments."

The dark-haired beauty looked visibly repulsed by the suggestion, causing Noah to laugh softly.

"Something about all these haughty little glares and insults of yours," as a gloved hand reached toward her cheek, "makes me want to tame you."

Elizabeth considered those words, along with his unwanted proximity, along with the hand about to touch her cheek, enough reasons to justify using her powers. As she mused over exactly how much bodily harm she'd inflict on this so-called negotiator, she opened her palm to begin to summon a tear ...

There was the sound of a gun clicking. Noah and Elizabeth turned to the doorway to spy Booker DeWitt standing in the doorway, a Colt model pistol aimed at the intruder's head. He had managed to get dressed into his suspenders and trousers before realizing there had been some sort of invasion into his home.

The young beauty couldn't help but smile. The sight of DeWitt wielding a gun brought back some bizarrely fond memories.

"Step away from them," Booker instructed gravely.

The blonde man released an amused sigh, turning back to Elizabeth to flash her a quick wink, before stepping toward DeWitt. The strange man purposely positioned himself in front of the two females, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.

Elizabeth briefly mused over the odd act. She would have sooner expected the Negotiator to attempt to use herself and Anna as shields ... rather than boldly blocking them from Booker's line of sight. Was it the man's extreme arrogance?

"Greetings, Mr. DeWitt. My name is Noah Reed. I do find humor in the fact that our initial meeting involves you aiming a semi-automatic pistol at me ... You certainly live up to your reputation."

"Give me a reason not to shoot you."

"I can list several: I am unarmed, this is a new suit, violence in front of a lady is socially reprehensible,-"

"-Not impressed with your list so far-"

"- it'd be extremely difficult to hide such a large corpse, Governor John Dix's preferred punishment for those guilty of manslaughter is electrocution, and it's a rather sordid achievement to murder a man in front of your daughter before her first birthday, wouldn't you agree?"

"Wipe that smug look off your face," DeWitt snarled as his lips twisted into a frown, still aiming the pistol at the trespasser's face.

Noah made no effort to change his mockingly calm smile, hands still raised.

With a frustrated snort, DeWitt lowered his weapon before uttering: "Get out. I'll meet you streetside."

"As you wish," as the negotiator dropped his hands. The blonde man twisted to glance at the half-naked beauty standing behind him before asking: "May I have your name, miss?"

"You may not," Elizabeth responded humorlessly, cradling the still-crying Anna.

Reed smiled as he replaced his hat onto his own head: "Such a plucky damsel."

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Noah left the apartment per DeWitt's insistence, leaving behind a flustered Booker and a dispirited Elizabeth.

"That was a debt-collector. A dangerous one. Why'd you let him in my apartment?" DeWitt growled, moving to claim his infant from the emotionally-wounded female.

"I didn't! I ... wouldn't have answered the door like this," referring to the single garment that adorned her body.

The ex-Pinkerton glared at her: "He had you both trapped in there. Why didn't you call out for help?"

"I ... was scared," Elizabeth lied, holding herself regrettfully. The truth certainly wasn't an option: _I have dimension-twisting powers and I wanted to be able to use them on that ridiculous bastard without you knowing._

The lie did stifle some of Booker's anger. He sighed, replacing Anna into the crib and ushering the conflicted woman out of the nursery.

"Listen, Elizabeth. I had a gun aimed at that man's head and he didn't even flinch. He's the despicable type. _My_ type. And he expressed an interest in you ... -"

"- I'm not afraid of him, Mr. DeWitt -"

"- Okay, that's fine. You're not afraid of him, _but I am._ You're not safe here, Elizabeth. Not when a man like that knows you're here," Booker pressed on even as her pretty face adopted a betrayed look, "you can't stay. I don't need a dead girl on my conscience right now. "

Elizabeth looked away, jaw muscles clenched tight as she struggled to hold back tears. The sight of her nearly made DeWitt recant everything.

Nearly.

"We'll finish this conversation when I'm done speaking with him," the ex-soldier promised. Booker returned to his room to finish getting dressed. On his way out of the apartment, without even sparing the heart-broken female a glance, he muttered coldly: "And don't touch Anna."

But on his way outside to meet with Noah, he silently lectured himself: _Are you really going to do this to the poor girl, Booker? Lie beside her one night, drive her from your apartment the next?_

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Stepping outside, Booker noticed Noah leaning against the wall of the apartment building, smoking a cigarette.

"Let's get two things straight, mister," DeWitt snarled, approaching the debt-collector, "one, if I catch you in my home again, I'll shoot you."

"I understand. - Care for a smoke?" It was a purposely patronizing offer. Noah wasn't particularly intimidated by the ex-Pinkerton's threat.

"Two, that girl is a client. Nothing more."

"Nothing more, you say?" The tall man murmured, watching the ex-soldier's expression skeptically as he exhaled smoke.

"Nothing more," Booker repeated.

"Mm," Reed sighed with a taunting smirk, deciding to test the other man's claim: "then you wouldn't mind if I fucked her, I take it?"

"... Do as you wish," the ex-soldier responded. Though as the words left his mouth he suddenly realized he very much hate the thought of anyone else touching Elizabeth. Still, he knew the debt-collector was simply attempting to provoke him.

"I see," the gray-eyed man responded evenly, deciding DeWitt was a terrible liar. He took a long drag of his cigarette, allowing Booker's apprehension to deepen, before asking: "What is your lovely client's name?"

"I'm not sharing my client's personal information with you."

Reed revealed his amusement: "We haven't even begun to discuss business and you're already lying to me ... "

The words caused Booker's frustrations to escalate.

"Listen to me! I barely know her. Hurting her isn't going to-"

"- Why would I ever hurt her, Mr. DeWitt?" Noah interrupted gravely. Suddenly the man who had been alternating between mocking smirks and insincere smiles adopted a look of icy severity.

The implication of Booker's words saturated the air between them: they both fully understood DeWitt would be unable to pay back his debt.

**oooooooooooooooooooooo**

Ernest Jacoby stroked his mustache. He was watching Booker DeWitt converse with his boss, Noah Reed, from across the street. Jacoby decided the two of them were an Interesting sight. If all the rumors and research he and Noah had exhaustively collected on their latest target were true, then he was currently looking at the two most dangerous men he knew: "The White Injun" and "The Negotiator."

There were both similarities and differences, of course. Both men were accomplished murderers, and both had a reputation for incredible violence and bloodlust. But DeWitt was a soldier, a man who belonged on the battlefield, an accomplished marksman who could survive incredible odds due to his extreme ruthlessness and combat skill.

Noah, conversely, was a sub-par shot and had never served in the military. At a young age, It was that large, muscular body of Reed's that drew the attention of local mafia members. Sure, it was easy enough to learn how to look and act tough in a city such as this, but being over six-and-a-half feet tall gave Noah a unique advantage. The mafia had thorough instructors and Reed was an apt student: the boy became a fearless man, an unrivaled brawler and a sadistic murderer in their hands. The entirety of New York City's criminal underworld knew the name Noah Reed.

Ernest continued to watch them. The Negotiator looked calm as ever, casually smoking his cigarette as they spoke. DeWitt, alternately, conveyed multiple emotions: apprehension, regret, anger. Booker tossed an infuriated shout at Noah, who responded with laughter ... deepening the ex-Pinkerton's frustrations. Ernest briefly wondered if things were about to get violent.

_Don't do it, DeWitt. You can outdraw him but you can't outfight him. _

Ernest suddenly found himself imagining what a fight between the two brutes would be like. Yes, at a distance and with a ranged weapon, DeWitt would secure an easy victory. But up close? As close as they were now? The advantage belonged to the very powerful Noah.

Ernest figured one of these days ... someone, from a safe location, was going to unload a complete chamber of bullets into Reed's back.

Perhaps DeWitt would be that man.

Either way, Ernest wouldn't feel particularly sad that day. In fact, he wouldn't feel sad at all.

After the conversation, Booker disappeared back into the apartment building. Noah finished his cigarette before crossing the street to approach Ernest.

"It's been an interesting morning," the negotiator admitted.

"What terms did you offer him?"

"Payments of 10% biweekly until the debt is fully paid."

"Is he going to be able to pay?" Ernest questioned.

Noah almost laughed.

"No. I saw it in his eyes; Mr. DeWitt has already given up. He's a drunk, extremely depressed, lacks motivation, earns a meager and inconsistent income, is burdened with a motherless infant, has no family willing to assist him nor a single asset in his name ... the list goes on."

"We're going to have to make an example of him, then?" Ernest honestly preferred the happier endings ... the ones that involved successful pay-offs and no torture or murder.

"Undoubtedly," Noah commented impassively, "It's a pity ... He has skills. Valuable skills. I'd consider putting him to work if he weren't a rampant alcoholic."

"He may straighten out if we explain to him his options are indentured servitude or death ... " Ernest offered.

"You're such an optimist, Mr. Jacoby," the tall man teased with that odd smile of his, "are you really so eager to work alongside a man with such a violent reputation?"

"I work with you and Vincenzo ... " with a bit of a shrug, "one more sociopath would really complete the picture."

Reed snorted in amusement. Ernest certainly made a valid point.

"Truth be told I just feel bad for DeWitt's kid," Jacoby sighed. After a moment, he noticed a pensive look on his boss' face, "is something wrong, sir?"

Noah had been thinking about fierce blue eyes.

"There was a lady there. A lady we didn't know about," a pause as he fondly reminisced over her inappropriate choice of clothing earlier, "a lady undoubtedly sharing DeWitt's bed at night."

"Is that surprising? A few of the people we questioned described him as a philanderer."

"She looked remarkably similar to the infant: Anna. I suspect they're related somehow."

"It can't be his wife, obviously ... Did you get this woman's name?"

"No."

"That's uncharacteristically sloppy of you," Ernest pointed out.

"I tried," Noah sighed with a bitter smirk, "but she was quite ... willful."

"Any plans to use her?"

"Not yet. She was certainly a beautiful young lady, though," the Negotiator stated, imagining her. Noah couldn't help but think if she parted her thighs for the correct men, she could probably pay off DeWitt's entire debt within a few weeks, "she was also incredibly strange."

"Strange, sir?"

"She did not fear me. Not even slightly."

"Uh ... was she blind? or simple, maybe?" Ernest questioned, thinking any normal lady would possess a very healthy fear of such a physically-imposing, dangerous man ... especially if he was trespassing into your home.

"Neither," Noah answered with a darkly amused smirk, "She was a petite lass. I had her alone, pinned against the wall ... but she neither screamed nor begged. Instead, threats and insults passed her lips. I wonder ... what sort of woman can glare into the world of men, completely unafraid?"

**ooooooooooooooooooo**

When Booker reentered the apartment, he made it his first priority to care for Anna's needs. He cleaned and fed the child, sparing the occasional glance toward a rather despondent Elizabeth seated at the small kitchen table in the corner.

DeWitt played with Anna affectionately ... it always softened his heart when the baby's hands grasped his fingers and tugged at him. An hour later, when the infant finally began to settle, he returned her to her crib and hesitantly approached Elizabeth.

She appeared sad and tired, a look that didn't suit her.

"I'd never do anything to hurt Anna," she muttered, still extremely insulted by his instruction not to touch the infant earlier.

Booker grabbed a chair, moving it so he can sit directly next to the dainty female.

"You realize I've only known you for twelve hours," DeWitt reminded gently.

Elizabeth sighed miserably, refusing to look at the ex-Pinkerton.

" ... I had a dream yesterday. I dreamt men came ... and they took Anna from me," Booker revealed quietly, "I woke up yesterday morning thinking she was gone. Forever."

The blue-eyed beauty cast a sympathetic look toward her father. She wondered if the dream was coincidental or, if somehow, the man who had once been capable of becoming the prophet Comstock saw a reality he shouldn't have.

DeWitt decided it was time to explain his situation to her. Maybe then she'd realize she's not safe with him ...

"That man, that was here. I owe money, and he was hired to collect. He'll murder to get what he wants. Regardless if it's man, woman or child," a pause, "Elizabeth, do you understand why he broke in here?"

"He said something about a payment plan."

"He was scoping the place out, trying to see if I had anything valuable. You know what he found?"

She shook her head.

"He found _you_, Elizabeth."

Booker watched her quiet, guarded expression. He hesitantly reached out to touch her shoulder.

"You, and Anna. I don't know you particularly well, but it'd destroy me if something happened to you on my account," DeWitt murmured earnestly.

Elizabeth's pained look didn't escape his notice. Her vulnerability was further emphasized by the fact that she was wearing nothing more than his shirt. He very much wanted to pull her into his arms, kiss her and apologize ...

"Can you pay back the debt?" She asked quietly.

Booker's grimace answered her question. He had enough money to make the first two payments to Noah ... and if business picked up, maybe he could last a third or fourth payment ... but eventually he'd fall short. Sooner or later, men would show up looking for money, and DeWitt would be unable to pay.

"I'll help you; I will," she whispered, reaching up to gently cup his cheek with her palm, "But I can only do that if you allow me to stay."

Booker eyed her grimly, reaching up to gently grab her hand and remove it from his face. He did, however, find comfort by touching her ... and found himself maintaining his hold on her hand.

They shared a quiet moment.

"You said I could stay, last night. You said I could stay as long as I needed, Mr. DeWitt ... " she reminded him desperately.

"Call me Booker," as he squeezed her palm lightly, "and you can stay until I run out of money. But when that day comes, you gotta go."

"That day won't come," the sweet-hearted girl promised.

oooooooooooooooo

Elizabeth's naturally perky disposition soon returned and DeWitt found her optimism infectious. She even managed to summon a few smiles from him as he warmed up some canned soup for her. Booker's anxieties never truly left his mind but they were certainly dulled by her cheerful nature.

_She's a wide-eyed dreamer, that's for sure ... _DeWitt decided as he listened to her prattle about plans to visit Paris. Then London. Then Hong Kong. She spoke as though she could visit these places on a whim ... which humored him.

It felt... natural, he realized, as he set down a bowl of Campbell's soup onto the table in front of her. They hadn't had time to sit and converse on simple, light-hearted subjects until now, and Booker decided doing so felt very natural.

Once she started eating, DeWitt found himself suddenly becoming very distracted. If this debt went away ... if by some miracle he paid it off or all the debt-collectors of New York City vanished ... could he live a happy life with this girl?

Booker instantly felt guilt over the silent fantasy. She was young, sweet and happy ... three things he certainly wasn't. He'd just drag her into his dark little world ... filled with thugs and nightmares. Hell, he already was. DeWitt suddenly thought of the way Noah had her cornered in the nursery earlier that morning, close enough that she probably felt his breath on her cheek. What would have happened to her, had he not showed up with a gun?

He felt Elizabeth's bare foot tap him underneath the table.

"What are you thinking about, with such a frown?"

"You, actually," Booker admitted.

After a momentarily discouraged expression, she flashed him a pretty, resolved smile.

"I was unreasonably upset with you, at first, Booker ... when I realized you don't remember me, but ... " Ellizabeth stood up from her chair and, with a bit of a flush on her face, sat down sideways in DeWitt's lap. She crossed her legs, acting very ladylike about the whole thing. She lifted her pinky and tapped its thimble on his lips before whispering: "I now think about it as a second chance. A chance we can ... look at each other without thinking about certain sins."

DeWitt shifted uncomfortably within the chair, struggling not to get aroused by her flirty position. It was an impossible task, especially considering how incredibly sexy she looked in nothing more than his dress-shirt. He briefly wondered how the girl managed to have the sweetness of a maiden and the playfulness of a vixen simultaneously.

"When you think about me," she spoke softly, reaching up to begin to unbutton the shirt she was wearing, "I'd prefer to see a smile."

From Booker's vantage point, the unbuttoning of her shirt slowly revealed her left breast: pert and pale. The tantalizing image encouraged the ex-soldier to build up some resistance. He reached out to stop her hand from unfastening any more buttons.

"Is this going to be a pattern between us? I tell you to leave, you throw yourself at me ... "

"Let's break the cycle, then, Booker," looking into his conflicted green eyes, "stop asking me to leave."

oooooooooooooooooooooo

_I don't understand her ... _

_One of us is confused. I originally believed it was her, but now I'm beginning to think it's me._

_I want to tell her no, but I'm just a man. A man in the arms of a beautiful woman._

They were still on the chair, but Booker's trousers and Elizabeth's shirt had been removed. The dark-haired siren was straddling his thighs, kissing his shoulder. Her arms were roped about his neck; his hands were on her back to keep that stunning body pressed into his chest.

"Inside me ... " she whispered impatiently.

She lifted her hips as he took hold of his cock. After a few moments of shifting, he began to slowly push through her tight pussylips. She moaned as her hole clenched Booker's thick pole ... Once again her womanhood was thoroughly resisting the intrusion. The gorgeous girl attempted to spread her legs further, briefly wondering if her stubborn pussy was going to respond like this to every initial penetration.

Booker was squeezing and massaging her thighs and ass, giving the frozen girl a moment to adjust. She was too tight, not as wet as she should be ... her level of inexperience was denying the struggling girl the wild sex she wanted to share with DeWitt. The wild sex she had witnessed in other parallels. She twisted her hips, trying to take more of that shaft up inside of her ... not wanting to disappoint her lover.

The more experienced partner understood what was happening. Elizabeth had only recently lost her virginity and they had skipped the foreplay that would have stimulated her pussy into loosening and lubricating for him ...

"Let me feel you for a moment, Elizabeth," Booker murmured, one arm tightening around her body. Her sensual grip was already causing his cock to strain, even if only about half of it was lodged inside her. He treasured this moment: this beautiful woman was so incredibly eager to please him.

She clung to him, pressing her face into his neck and waited.

After a moment, DeWitt moved a hand to her breast, fingers drawing circles across her nipple before pinching it. Her reaction, a soft moan and a small twist, made him realize her nipples were quite sensitive.

Booker briefly remembered his silent promise the previous night. He decided not to let their collective impatience get in the way of delivering on it.

"Boys think they turn a girl into a woman when they take her virginity," as he tugged her hardening pink bud before suddenly removing himself from her quim. He stood upward, lifting her body and swiftly placing her on the kitchen table, "men realize they only complete a woman after they've fully pleasured her."

Elizabeth found herself both surprised and aroused by the lustful act. She moaned softly when he leaned over her to start kissing and licking her left nipple as he used his hand to twist and tug at her right nipple. She had wonderful breasts, and stimulating them kept him hard.

The wanton female had closed her eyes, focusing on Booker's delicious ministrations. She felt his hands grab hers, and guided them to her own womanly curves. She took the hint, starting to squeeze and pull at her own boobs.

DeWitt, satisfied with Elizabeth's eager compliance, planted kisses and licks down the length of her abdomen before moving between her thighs. He bit her right thigh almost roughly, causing her to gasp. He kissed that same spot, before moving his mouth to her clit.

Her skilled lover's actions made the blue-eyed beauty groan wildly. She felt his chapped lips, his moist tongue, even his smooth teeth touch her slit. She attempted to relax but found herself unable to contain the pleasure, twisting and trembling from the sensual assault on her body.

"Booker ... my body feels amazing," she called out when she felt him shift toward her now dripping pussy. That incredible tongue of his circled her entrance before slipping into her. He lapped at her juices, wiggled his slick tongue within her. It felt so good. That delicious throbbing sensation emerged within her womanhood, "my ... body ... "

Booker stood upward, considering her lusty words his cue. The loss of his touch made her sigh. He carefully lifted her again, shifting her body until she her slender stomach pressed into the table. Wasting no time, he shoved his erection into her slickened pussy.

She groaned. Loudly. DeWitt didn't really care if the neighbors heard them, though. He found himself intensely aroused by the mere sight of her ... that slender back, her curvy rump. He adjusted his position so he could enjoy the sight of his prick disappearing into her gorgeous body.

Elizabeth, later on, would realize the incredible change ... The transformation of her womanhood from being ridiculously uncooperative to this desperate eagerness. Booker began to eagerly shove into her over and over. His thrusts were powerful, unrelenting... and all she could do was clutch the sides of the table, moan, and receive his swollen shaft.

The pace of DeWitt's motions quickened. His hands were on Elizabeth's hips, tugging her body as he speared forward into her moist, warm passage. Her taste was in his mouth, her hole was massaging him. She was everything. Nothing else existed but her.

Elizabeth's body felt incredibly hot and she now understood her lover was about to give her a complete experience. Those repeated plunges deep within her produce a level of pleasure she had never felt before. There were amazing pulsing sensations in the tips of her breast and in her pinkened cunt, and she realized her passions were about to explode.

"Booker!"

The man groaned when he felt her body spasm around his pistoning dick. DeWitt continued his grunting and thrusting, thinking he never wanted to be with any other woman. The swelling of his prick and testicles made his movements nearly frantic. When he reached his own climax he pulled out, squirting cum on her rump and thighs.

They took a moment to recover ... trying to calm their own breathing and heartbeats. Afterwards, they shifted. Soon he was back in the chair, with the soiled female in his lap. They were gently kissing, arms wrapped around each other.

"You're so beautiful, Elizabeth," he murmured appreciatively.

"That ... was incredible," she whispered with a content sigh.

The man couldn't agree more.

In fact, he couldn't think of a single experience with any other woman that had felt as fulfilling as this.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

**Author's Note:** This chapter took longer than expected because it was about twice the length of the first chapter and I also had to do some fact checking. For example I wasn't sure if words like 'manually' or 'fuck' were being used back in the early 1900s, or if they had fridges yet, or what guns were commonly used, fashion/undergarments, etc.

Anyway! Let me know if you guys like the direction it's going in and/or want more. I introduced some conflict and a villain if you guys want me to make an actual story here. Reviews and votes really inspire me to write so I appreciate anyone who takes the time to do so. Thanks again for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **Two warnings.

First warning: I have really smart reviewers that made me realize I screwed up Bioshock Infinite's timeline. Rather than rewrite it and change the plot, I'm gonna just let the story assume Elizabeth found an older version of DeWitt in the 1913 time period, because an older Booker is the version she fell for.

Second warning: _**The last scene in this chapter depicts extreme violence**_. It is mostly a scene meant to develop one of my side characters and can probably skipped if you don't want to read that sort of thing.

Anyway. Long chapter! Lots of set up for future chapters. Enjoy.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Booker had no idea why Elizabeth insisted he enter the department store with her. He briefly wondered if she even realized that his presence in a place that sells woman's fashions was ... inappropriate. He tried to ignore the two impeccably dressed middle-aged women in the corner of the store who were currently whispering to each other while glaring at him.

Still ... when the beauty excitedly exited the dressing room, he couldn't help but smile. Elizabeth had picked a dark violet dress with black lace adornments ... and she looked enchanting in it. It also appeared significantly less restrictive then the fancy bodice she had worn when they initially met, while still being flattering to her figure: a very elegant, feminine choice.

"You look ... great," he complimented awkwardly. She just put the damn dress on and DeWitt found himself unavoidably imagining ripping it right off her ... It was impossible to avoid lustful thoughts of the alluring female since the initiation of their sexual relationship.

"I'm not familiar with the currency here ... is the price fair?" Elizabeth inquired meekly. She needed appropriate clothing; the ambitious female hadn't yet revealed her plan to find employment and help DeWitt legally repay his debt ... and she realized no one would accept an application from a woman in a torn, bloody dress or men's clothing ...

"Are you Canadian or something?" DeWitt asked. The ex-Pinkerton thought it odd she was unfamiliar with American money. The dress turned out to be three dollars, which he decided he could afford. It wasn't even a dent in the amount of debt he owed, anyway.

oooooooooooooooooooo

As the days passed, Booker was suddenly sleeping decently. Better than he had in years. There were still night terrors and horrifying dreams, but, with Elizabeth's slender form curled against his body during nocturnal hours, DeWitt found himself able to will away many of his anxieties.

Hell, Booker wasn't even drinking alcohol as much as he used to. He usually snuck a beer or two in the middle of the night, as his new companion slept ... but he hadn't been drunk since their first night together.

All that talk Elizabeth made about saving him ... Maybe she was right.

oooooooooooooooooooo

Albert Surgoy was an overweight man with an odd hair-related conundrum: he was balding on top but possessed excessive growth on his face.

Albert was also wealthy. Extremely wealthy, with a simple wife and two sons. Two wily sons who needed a governess to assist with their education.

"Miss Elizabeth, your application letter was extremely thoughtful and eloquent ... " Albert Surgoy commented kindly.

Elizabeth, struggling not to stare at his awkward facial hair, put on a warm smile: "Thank you Mr. Surgoy."

" ... However, there are three other applicants. All women with higher education degrees, experience and references."

Those pretty lips formed a frown. She was well aware that the job opportunities in this city for women were very few in number ... and to miss out on this excellent position would be very detrimental to her efforts to assist Booker with his debts.

"I thank you for coming here for an interview, miss Elizabeth. Allow me to pay you for your time-"

"Sir!" Elizabeth practically shouted, standing up.

Albert eyes widened over her little outburst: the result of incredible levels of frustration and desperation.

"I may not have the appropriate papers but I can prove an advanced level of education, I swear," she promised, "I've self-taught four languages: French, German, Russian and Mandarin. I am fond of advanced physics: quantum levitation, energy laws, thermodynamics, kinetic theory, relativity, all of it. I also know advanced mathematics: probability, differential calculus, algebra and more. I have considerable knowledgeable of the world's geography. I know the world, sir," she was nearly in tears at this point, fists clenching, "I can ... I can even list every capital in Africa and their coordinates. Fes of Morroco: 34°2′ north and 5°0′ west. Cairo of Egypt: 30°3′ north and 31°14′ east - "

"-Miss, please calm down," Surgoy interrupted with a sympathetic frown. Any sensible man would be moved by such a passionate outburst, and Albert was certainly sensible.

"I ... " her voice made a shift toward sadness, "we have a little one at home ... and debts. I ... just want honest work, sir. I'll lose them both, I-"

"-I suppose," Albert stood up, approached the girl and clasped her hands gently, "I can permit you a trial period of employment ... See how my boys take to you. You certainly seem to have an impressive amount of knowledge."

There _were_ tears, now. Ones that were a product of incredible joy.

"Thank you so much sir," squeezing the man's hands, "I won't disappoint you."

oooooooooooooooooooo

Ten percent every other Friday by midnight until the debt is paid.

That was the agreement.

Elizabeth and Anna both slept, unaware of Booker's crippling sense of anxiety. Tonight would be his first payment.

Many thoughts plagued DeWitt's mind as he waited for the midnight hour. He was, with excessive guilt, accepting the entirety of Elizabeth's personal income from her new position as governess of Surgoy's estate. She had insisted upon fully contributing to the repayment of his debt, and had only twice requested anything in return: the first request was for new footware, the second request was for some toys for Anna.

The whole situation was so ... embarrassing. Last week Booker was only commissioned for two small jobs and Elizabeth had managed to earn more money than him.

_I need consistent work ... _Booker miserably noted. The fact that Elizabeth was quickly becoming the largest contributor to his debt repayment was beginning to gnaw at his psyche.

Still, he was happy for Elizabeth. Surgoy was paying her fairly well ... perhaps charmed by her, perhaps sympathetic to her situation, perhaps both. The nurturing female seemed rather fond of Surgoy's two sons, both of whom apparently doted on her. And when Surgoy's simple but kind wife realized Elizabeth was arriving to work in the same violet garment every morning, she went into her own closets and pulled out a few well-kept dresses for her.

Booker briefly wondered why Elizabeth was so ... loyal, to him. Maybe she _had_ met him sometime in the past. If not, then they've only known each other for a handful of days before the dark-haired beauty had started applying for jobs on his and Anna's behalf.

Suddenly, DeWitt ruefully recalled how nasty he was to Elizabeth over the fact she had touched his daughter during her second night in his home ...

_Tomorrow we should all go to the park, together, _Booker decided.

The ex-Pinkerton stood up when he noticed the time on his wallclock: 11:43pm. Booker glanced out his apartment window to see a familiar man outside ... standing underneath the street light at the corner of the road, waiting.

It wasn't Noah Reed. It was the other man he saw that day. The man that had been across the street, watching his heated conversation with the Negotiator. An average sized man with a particularly bushy mustache.

It was an effective way to collect, DeWitt had to admit. Just have a lackey wait directly outside the debtor's home at collection time. Debtors certainly couldn't use traffic as an excuse for a late payment.

DeWitt stepped outside. The collector eyed the ex-soldier's languid approached. Booker stopped within a foot of the other man, and they stared at each other for a silent minute.

"Reed makes you do the dirty work?" The ex-Pinkerton questioned as he offered the envelope to the Negotiator's representative. Though he had to admit Noah's absence was appreciated ... Booker found himself easily embittered by the man's obnoxious personality.

"You couldn't be further from the truth, sir. Mr. Reed loves the dirty work. This," as the collector opened the envelope and began to examine its contents, "is counting. And he finds this sort of thing rather tedious."

When the collector was finished counting the money, the man offered Booker a bitter, possibly sympathetic smile.

"My name's Ernest. And I'm hoping we have nine more tedious meetings before we can both walk away from this sordid business and move on with our lives. You think we can do that, Mr. DeWitt?"

Booker turned away without responding, heading back toward the apartment building. He wondered if Ernest's apparent sympathy was just a ruse to encourage the ex-soldier's continued cooperation.

"Mr. DeWitt ... " Jacoby called out hesitantly, causing the ex-Pinkerton to pause.

"Ya?"

"The boss ... Mr. Reed, he made an interesting comment the other day ... "

"Well?" Impatient.

"He said if you quit the drinking, he'd consider letting you work off the debt ... If you can't afford to pay it off you should consider - "

Booker turned back toward Ernest with a furious glare. The ex-soldier snarled a question: "- You really think I'd take a job from that son-of-a-bitch?"

Ernest froze for a second before his dark eyes cast downward contemplatively.

"The fondest memory I have, Mr DeWitt," Ernest began with a somber tone, " ... was when my firstborn said the word 'dada.' He was six months and eleven days old, at the time."

The ex-Pinkerton's breath hitched as several painful emotions swelled in his chest. He thought of Anna. She was about that age ... but she had yet to utter the word.

Ernest's gaze shifted back upward to look at Booker directly in the eye.

"Every kid deserves a parent, Mr. DeWitt. And, unfortunately, your wife was forced to leave the task to you and you alone."

Jacoby's suggestion was clear: Booker should do whatever it'd take to survive. For Anna if nothing else.

"Just something to think about, I suppose," Ernest murmured quietly.

The ex-Pinkerton grimaced. Was employment with that unscrupulous bastard his only chance of survival? Could he once again embrace a life of murder and violence, despite all the nightmares and past regrets?

What would he sacrifice to ensure he could continue to provide for Anna?

How much would he do to keep Elizabeth?

oooooooooooooooo

"May I hold Anna?"

Booker nodded.

Central Park wasn't quite as magnificent as it used to be. People had vandalized and littered it, and the government had abandoned its upkeep. Despite the occasional dead tree and piles of animal dung, It still managed to be beautiful at this time of year, far greener then the rest of the city.

Other people were enjoying the park as well. Perhaps the summer breeze was making everyone optimistic. Every passerby smiled at them or tipped their hats in greeting.

Booker turned to look at Elizabeth and Anna as they strolled through a particularly enchanting park pathway. His new companion was tapping Anna's lips and cheeks playfully, causing the infant to laugh.

"Beautiful family," a kind stranger complimented as they walked past him. Elizabeth smiled graciously.

The label 'family' forced Booker into an uncomfortable silence. A family? Is that what Elizabeth wanted? Of course she must, but DeWitt still couldn't understand why the beautiful girl _would_. The ex-Pinkerton couldn't imagine any unwed man refusing her affections ... yet she seemed helplessly committed to DeWitt and his daughter.

_A family, then ... well, whatever this is, I don't want to lose this ... _Booker decided silently.

"Say dada," Elizabeth implored his giggling daughter. Earlier this morning DeWitt had admitted to the young woman that he was waiting to hear the word from his little one's lips.

_I can't lose this ... _

oooooooooooooooo

A month went by.

Elizabeth's cheerfulness and work ethic seemed to change the entire household. She took care of the chores the ex-Pinkerton never bothered with: cleaning the floor, washing the windows, preparing meals that weren't canned soup. In addition, little Anna had developed an inclination smile and laugh more often, despite the fact she was beginning to teeth.

Booker didn't give up on his investigation business, but he would venture down to the New York docks and marketplace to find small, temporary jobs. None of it paid particularly well, but he was determined to bring home whatever he could. The ex-soldier couldn't stomach sitting around waiting for work, especially with Elizabeth doing all that she could to pull him out of the muck.

Two more payments were made. Booker managed to share a bizarre chuckle with Ernest during the third payoff, but became instantly sour afterwards. DeWitt couldn't help but wonder what Ernest would do if Noah ordered him to slash Elizabeth and Anna's throats.

The ex-Pinkerton was about to run out of money. He began to think about what life would be like with a man like Noah Reed as his employer.

oooooooooooooooo

It wasn't your typical day.

Elizabeth had arrived at Surgoy's doorstep a little before nine AM, as usual. She had noticed the Ford vehicle parked on the street outside her employer's home, with four men seated inside of it.

They were watching her.

_They ... can't be here for me, _she reasoned silently, _if they were, they'd wait outside Booker's home ... not Surgoy's._

Regardless, the sight was disturbing.

Elizabeth knocked on Surgoy's door. After a full minute of silence, she saw her employer peek at her through the window from within his home. She smiled and awkwardly waved. The man's face instantly disappeared.

_He's afraid ..._

The concerned female waited another two minutes. She heard shuffling inside before an envelope was pushed beneath the door.

"There's your payment, my dear. You're excused from work today-" Albert called out from within the home.

"-Sir? I'd prefer to earn my pay squarely. I have an exciting lesson plan prepared for your sons -"

"- I do appreciate it, miss Elizabeth, but your services aren't required this day. But, _please_ ... take care walking home."

The girl bit her lip, kneeling down to grab the envelope. It was very clear Surgoy was afraid ... Undoubtedly over the men parked outside his home. The sorcerous female had no intention of allowing anyone to hurt her generous employer or any member of his kind family. Still ... she just had to figure out a way to help them without using her powers.

"Mr Surgoy, may I come in? I think I've recognized your problem," she acknowledged gently, " ... and I think it'd be unsafe for me to try to leave at this point. They're ... looking at me."

Albert swiftly opened the door. She quickly stepped in so he could immediately close and lock it.

"My dear ... I don't know if I can protect you. I don't even know what they want ... " Her employer admitted nervously. Poor Surgoy was a mess: pale and sweaty. He peeked through the window again to spy at the suspicious car outside his home. Thankfully, opening the door for his employee didn't prompt any response from them.

Elizabeth frowned sympathetically: "How long have they been here?"

"Before I awoke this morning. They may have been here the entire night without my notice!"

"Where's your family?"

"Hiding upstairs ... - Damn my luck, I had the means of contacting the Negotiator but I misplaced his representative's number. He's the sort that can ... fix this-"

"-The Negotiator?" She interrupted, perhaps too loudly.

"You know him?!" Surgoy questioned as he turned to her hopefully. Maybe the governess had the means of contacting the man ...

An idea popped into the crafty female's head.

"I ... know _of_ him," she lied, "and I know he ... overcharges for his services ... - "

"- Well ... desperate times-"

"I know a man that can help you. A very ... skilled man, apt at this sort of business. If you permit me to use your phone, I can have him here within half of an hour."

"Truly? What's his name?"

"DeWitt. Booker DeWitt."

ooooooooooooooooooooo

Booker had stopped on the corner of the street to take time to examine the ford vehicle parked outside Surgoy's home. There were four men in the car, as Elizabeth had promised on the phone. And the four men were staring straight back at him.

DeWitt could make a few assumptions. First, these weren't your average hoodlums. Only wealthy men could afford cars. Second, if they had wanted Surgoy dead, the man would be dead already.

Booker wondered if they were trying to intimidate Surgoy with their presence. Was Surgoy some kind of criminal? Or did these men want money?

_They might be tied to the mafia ... _The investigator realized. The thought made him cringe inwardly. If the situation became violent, that could mean a lot of trouble.

It didn't matter, though. Elizabeth was in Surgoy's home, and he couldn't let them continue with whatever plans they had on the off-chance these gangsters had violent intentions.

DeWitt, cautiously, made his way toward the Surgoy residence ... but as he approached the entrance, he heard two car doors click open. Booker, slowly, turned around to see two of the thugs approach him.

"May I help you, gentlemen?" The private investigator inquired. The two men stepped up to Booker, standing side-by-side. DeWitt decided they could pass as brothers due to the similarities of their appearance - Dark hair, pale skin, wide noses, average height but both stout-looking. The one on the left had a scar on his cheek.

"We're wondering what business you have with Mr. Surgoy," the scar-less one declared in a thick Russian accent, folding his arms across his chest. Scarface simply glared at him.

"Listen, this little situation can be handled peacefully ... " Booker reasoned.

"I'm beginning to think it _can't_ be, mister," Scar-less refuted.

"You better leave. Now," Scarface muttered darkly with a thicker accent then his hypothetical brother.

"There's women and children, in this home ... " Booker stated in a firm tone, "I'm not going to abandon them just because a couple of ugly thugs think they can intimidate me."

Tensions mounted. Scar-less fixed an angry glare onto DeWitt.

"You've made a big mistake, mister," Scar-less snarled, "a _big _one."

The hypothetical brothers acted simultaneously. Scarface launched a punch toward Booker as Scar-less reached for a gun tucked inside a shoulder holster within his suit.

DeWitt managed to dodge the clumsy punch, grabbing at Scarface's shoulder and roughly swinging him with all his strength into Scar-less. Scar-less hadn't expected such a maneuver and stumbled.

Scarface made an awkward attempt to grab Booker. With a shrug of his shoulders and a very powerful thrust of his fist, DeWitt knocked Scarface to the ground.

At this point, Scar-Less had managed to regain his balance and pull his gun from its holster. Fortunately, Booker was fast enough to snatch the man's wrist, preventing accurate use of the gun.

In the distance, DeWitt heard the sound of the other two gangsters getting out of their Ford vehicle. The ex-Pinkerton tugged on Scar-less' arm and twisted it about until the man cried out and dropped his gun. He then pulled the crook against his own body to use the man as a shield from his two newest opponents, who already had their weapons drawn.

Scar-less decided not to attempt to squirm away in case the two newest participants in the battle tried to take a shot at Booker. Being held in front of two men who were aiming pistols in his direction was certainly a precarious position, even if said men were allies.

"Do you know who you're fucking messing with?" One of the approaching thugs called out. This one sounded Irish.

Booker didn't bother to verbalize a response. Thanks to Scar-less' sudden compliance as his human shield, he managed to reach for his own pistol holster, effortlessly and efficiently drawing it. The two men each took a shot, one missed the ex-soldier's head by mere inches, the other hit Scar-less' shoulder.

"Shit!" The wounded gangster cried out.

Neither man would get a chance to take another shot. With incredible speed and accuracy, the ex-Pinkerton fired a bullet at each of the gun-wielding men. One took a bullet right in the forehead and died instantly, the other took one to the neck.

But Booker didn't pause for a second, knowing Scarface could still be a threat he turned toward the ground where the man had fell.

"D-don't shoot!" Scareface cried out, hands raised, as DeWitt's gun aimed at his face.

Out of sheer instinct Booker nearly shot the man. It took concentrated effort not to. Perhaps it was the adrenaline. Perhaps it was the thrill of the moment. Perhaps it was the feelings of worth and purpose that he hadn't felt in years.

It had been a long time since DeWitt had killed anyone; he had forgotten what it felt like.

"Turn around and put your hands behind your head," Booker barked at the fallen thug. Scarface quickly obeyed.

"I ... I need a doctor," Scar-less whimpered as the gunshot wound began to burn inside his body ...

ooooooooooooooooooooo

Surgoy paid Booker handsomely for his fast and effective services.

An ambulance was called for the wounded thug, the police were called for the other. DeWitt lamented the lost opportunity to further question the men about their identities and affiliations after they were taken. The only information he obtained from the gangsters was their purpose: attempted extortion of the extremely wealthy Surgoy.

Booker probably would have had to beat further information out of them. And DeWitt was wary of committing such violent acts with Elizabeth nearby. He distantly recalled the accusation she made the first day she arrived in his apartment: _"I forgot about your inclination toward violence, Mr. DeWitt."_

The ex-Pinkerton opened the envelope and gripped the dollars in his hands. He should have thought: 'this will cover an entire payment of my owed debt and earn me two more weeks of life' ... Instead, holding all that money brought thoughts of playing cards and poker chips into his mind.

_I was lucky enough to find Elizabeth ... Lucky enough to get this money ..._

_Maybe, if I get lucky just one more time ... _

Booker couldn't control it. He knew he was on borrowed time, and sooner or later he'd be unable to pay the debt-collectors. The dejected man convinced himself that getting lucky was the only shot he had for a future with Anna and Elizabeth.

He'd go tonight, after Elizabeth went to sleep.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

There was a knock at the door or the Surgoy residence; Albert Surgoy, still wary due to yesterday's violent encounter within his household, peeked through the window.

There was a tall man waiting outside.

Surgoy moved to open the door.

"Greetings. Mr. Surgoy, I presume?"

"Yes. And you are?"

"My name is Noah Reed," the man stated with a friendly tone, actively avoiding looking toward Surgoy's ridiculous facial hair, "I've been recently informed there was an incident-"

"-Oh! You're the Negotiator!"

Noah smiled and bowed slightly, confirming Albert's assumption.

"Come in, come in. Would you care for any tea or coffee, Mr. Reed?"

Reed politely removed his hat before ducking to get through the doorway.

"Black coffee. Thank you."

"Yes, I found yesterday's incident to be rather horrifying," Surgoy admitted as he led the Negotiator into the living room, "I never imagined a group of thugs would attempt violence and extortion during daylight hours, at a man's personal residence, no less! - Let me retrieve your coffee."

As soon as Surgoy left for the kitchen, his two rambunctious sons ran into the room laughing loudly. They did not look much alike ... one was skinny and the other short and plump. They chased each other, and the thicker one latched onto Reed's leg attempting to use the large man to block his brother's advances.

Noah suddenly remembered how much he disliked children. Without a second thought, he reached one arm downward, grabbed the clothes covering the child's back, and effortlessly hoisted the rotund Surgoy son upward so he was eye-to-eye with the Negotiator.

"Do you have any further plans that involve touching me?" Reed inquired with an unkind smile.

"N ... No, sir," the boy responded, wide-eyed.

"Wise decision," Noah complimented before setting the boy back down onto the floor. The child waddled off, adjusting his clothes, sniffling. After hissing an insult at the Negotiator, the skinny brother soon followed.

Reed spent the next few minutes wishing infertility upon the entirety of mankind until Surgoy returned.

"The espresso machine is the best invention we've seen in the past decade," Surgoy announced, handing the cup of coffee to Reed.

"I thank you."

"I had meant to call for you yesterday, but I misplaced your representative's number."

"Were you aware those 'thugs' were tied to a newly arrived crime syndicate, Mr. Surgoy?" Noah inquired as he reached into an inner pocket of his suit, pulling out a replacement business card for the wealthy man.

"No ... " Surgoy admitted uncomfortably, taking the card and silently vowing not to lose it.

"The underworld of this city affectionately refers to them as the 'Immigrant Mafia.' A silly name, in my opinion. There's relatively few Italians in their organization, thus far."

" ... Is myself and my family safe, Mr. Reed?" Albert asked, flustered.

"I can't predict the future, but I will say this: The Immigrant Mafia has not been active in this city long at all and their presence has already had a polarizing effect on the 'local' mafias. Criminal warfare is imminent and the major players in this city will choose a side. Additionally you weren't the Immigrant Mafia's first target for extortion ... and you can only threaten the wealthy elite for so long before politicians and independent contractors such as myself are paid to get involved."

"What does all that mean for me and my family?"

"Forgive me," Noah apologized, "what I'm attempting to explain is, retaliation against you and your family will soon rank at the very heel of their priority list. Besides ... both the prominent local mafias shun the murder of innocents. Considering your only crime against the criminal underworld has been hiring a man to protect your home, I'd say you still qualify as innocent. I can't imagine the Immigrant Mafia would be willing to antagonize both this city's reigning criminal families simultaneously by targeting you with violent intent."

"So, we should be safe? Thank heavens ... " Albert murmured with a huge sigh of relief.

"I can't guarantee that, Mr. Surgoy."

"Right. Of course."

The Negotiator sipped his coffee before announcing: "Your hired gun, however, will undoubtedly be targeted. It was an interesting choice: shooting two of them and allowing the other two to live ... He ensured there would be survivors that could identify him as the killer. That's fortunate for you, however ... You won't be blamed for their deaths."

Sure, the survivors were doomed to be deported back to their respective countries, but they'd still have time to identify the man that violently ended their attempt to extort Surgoy.

Albert frowned, silently praying the Immigrant Mafia wouldn't kill the man that protected his family.

"What was the man's name, out of curiosity?" Noah inquired, "the man you hired." Obtaining that information was the entire purpose of this little visit, after all. The deaths of mafia members always garners attention - especially in the event of murder.

"Booker DeWitt."

Noah, who had enough business sense to act civil around soft-hearted, wealthy men, could no longer hide his extremely inappropriate sense of humor. Multiple quiet but lengthy strings of laughter escaped his lips.

Surgoy looked at the Negotiator in bewilderment. He couldn't imagine any part of this unfortunate situation being legitimately humorous and silently accused Noah of being an odd man.

"Is something funny, Mr. Reed?"

Reed's shoulders shook as he struggled to stop the sounds of his amused expirations. Finally, he admitted: "Oh, that man is a financial investment of mine ... "

_And I have no choice but to protect my investments. _Noah added silently. He had a feeling DeWitt wouldn't make the task easy for him. Odd twist of fate that Noah was going to have to make efforts to protect a man he was undoubtedly going to murder sooner or later. Reed silently wondered, if given enough time, whether DeWitt could have every sociopath and criminal in the city after him.

Noah decided the ex-Pinkerton either had extremely rotten luck or a death wish.

ooooooooooooooooooo

It wasn't until the late evening that the Negotiator had finished the day's work. A few business deals, a few threats, lots of research and preparation. It's amazing how much business had spawned from the imminent war between the criminal organizations.

Noah stepped into the phone booth and asked the phone operator to connect him with Ernest Jacoby's private number.

"Hello. Ernest speaking."

"I spoke with Surgoy this morning regarding the careless crooks that were killed on his property yesterday. Would you like to take a guess who killed them?"

"Oh, I don't know," Ernest sighed, instantly recognizing his boss' voice, "Vincenzo?"

"Not quite. But this man is also violent, a boozer and owes me thousands ... "

"Booker DeWitt?!"

"Yes, I was quite surprised myself," Reed admitted with a small chuckle, "the whole situation is rather amusing, isn't it?"

"Truly, sir, it isn't," Ernest grumbled, realizing that even if DeWitt managed to pay off his debts to Noah his life would probably still be in danger ...

"You're no fun anymore, Mr. Jacoby. - Do you think Booker enjoyed it? Killing them, that is. Do you think he feels like a man, again?"

"I ... don't know, sir."

"Mm. Well, send word to the appropriate parties: I am collecting on behalf of the Galucci family, and no one is to touch or threaten DeWitt until the debt is paid."

"Consider it done, sir."

"I haven't asked about DeWitt, lately. Have the payments been going smoothly ... ?"

"Yes sir ... but ... "

"Hm?"

"I heard a rumor he was at MacFarlane's last night ... "

"That trashy underground casino?" Noah responded with a smirk, "I'll hazard a guess and assume the notoriously unlucky simpleton lost money last night."

"The word is he lost over eight hundred dollars."

"That's impressive. He's lost more than half of Surgoy's generous reward money within twenty-four hours," with a small chuckle, "... I doubt DeWitt will be able to afford many more payments."

" ... I can't help but think we can use him, sir. He did single-handedly disarm four members of the Immigrant Mafia," Ernest argued, attempting to sound neutral, "he's got skills, just as you said."

"I'd sooner torture or humiliate him than make him a job offer," Noah refuted, still smirking, "he has a lot of nerve ... gambling away _my_ money like that."

Jacoby offered no response.

"I wonder if the Immigrant Mafia would be willing to pay me if I wrapped Booker up nicely and delivered him to their door ... "

"Perhaps ... " Ernest murmured quietly.

Reed became distracted, suddenly. He couldn't think about Booker for more than a minute before fearless blue eyes appeared in his mind.

"Is that beautiful lady still with Mr. DeWitt?" Noah questioned.

"To my knowledge, sir. I've yet to see her with my own eyes but others have reported that she leaves the house at eight in the morning and returns at seven at night every weekday."

"Ah. She works. More than he does, I imagine."

"Probably," Ernest confirmed.

"Did you discover her name?"

"Uh, no sir. Didn't realize she was still of interest."

"If you had seen her, Mr. Jacoby, you'd realize she's of interest," Noah insisted, smirking, "Do you think she'll be angry with me when I'm forced to kill DeWitt?"

" ... _Yes_. That sort of thing tends to upset a woman."

Noah noticed Ernest's obvious discomfort with the subject, and the guileful Negotiator decided to test the man.

"What if I paid for DeWitt's funeral arrangements? Do you think she'd forgive me in such a scenario?"

"No, sir." Ernest's frustration could be heard in his voice.

"I wonder if she intends to keep Booker's child in the event of his death ...-"

"-Sir ...-"

"-I don't particularly like children. Perhaps if I offered her a life of luxury and pleasure, she'd abandon little Anna - "

"-_Sir_!" Ernest interrupted angrilly, but instantly froze ...

"Yes, Mr. Jacoby?" The cold man smirked. Ernest had never raised his voice in such a way to Noah before.

" ... "

"How long have we worked together, my friend?" The Negotiator asked pointedly.

"Fifteen years, sir," Ernest answered. Jacoby didn't know it at the time, but Noah was only thirteen years old when the mob boss of the Galucci Mafia assigned Ernest with the task of educating the boy ... Who could have guessed? Thirteen year-old boys typically weren't six feet tall and fully capable of overpowering men double or triple their age.

"That's amusing. I've spent more of my life with your involvement than without it," Noah remarked, "and how many sins have we committed together?"

" ... Hundreds, sir."

"Would you ever betray me?" Reed asked nonchalantly.

"No sir."

"Are you becoming a liability to me, Ernest?"

"No, sir. Not at all," Jacoby responded quickly, noting Noah's usage of his first name.

"Let's hope not."

Silence.

"Well, this has been a fun little chat but it's late and I must return home," the Negotiator announced, "I bid you good night, my friend."

ooooooooooooooooooooo

The streets were dark, quiet, empty.

Noah found himself focusing on a single image: the image of blue eyes. Frustrated blue eyes. Furious blue eyes. Fearless blue eyes.

It had been a long day. A busy day. An _enlightening_ day. But now, as Noah trekked two New York City blocks through the darkness of night to return to his car, he couldn't think of any color but blue.

Reed wondered what emotions he'd see in those eyes if he killed Booker directly in front of the mysterious woman.

Mentally lingering on the subject of murder made Reed realize it's been a while since he's killed someone. About three months. That'd be considered a 'murder drought' for the Negotiator.

So when Noah heard an angry man's shouts from the depths of a nearby dark alley, he couldn't help but smirk. Reed approached that very alley and took a moment to listen.

A woman's voice cried out desperately: "I have no more money, Sergio! You took all of it!"

Mm. Sergio. Noah was aware of several men with such a name.

"Don't you fucking lie to me, bitch! I know you've been earning."

"Please Sergio ... my boys, I-!"

"- I don't care about your fucking kids! I want my damn money!"

The woman cried out.

Reed instantly recognized the story. An abusive pimp and his prostitute. A tale as old as time, truly. And there was only one pimp Noah knew of by the name of Sergio. A member of the Bianchi Mafia family ... the largest reigning Mafia in New York City.

A second woman's voice emerged: "Sergio, stop!"

There was a scream and a subsequent sob as the sounds of the scuffle continued.

"She can't earn if you strike her face!"

"All a whore needs is her pussy," Sergio snarled.

The Negotiator recognized the opportunity for violence. Frankly Noah almost felt like he _needed_ it. Reed decided to make a game of it ... and began to whistle as he started to walk between the two buildings where this sad little show was taking place. The trio were illuminated by a lantern within the depths of the alley: a six-foot tall brute with a sweaty, unshaven face ... a young, dark-haired female that stood nervously nearby ... and a blonde fallen on the ground, attempting to cover her face as she emitted the occasional sob.

The whistling caught their attention. Sergio and the dark-haired woman turned toward the tall blonde man.

"Get out of here, mister," Sergio growled, "this is a Bianchi family matter."

Noah smirked. The usage of the name 'Bianchi' would have frightened most men from interfering ...

"Oh, don't mind me, good sir," Reed announced as his casual stride quickly closed the distance between himself and the trio ... one of the benefits of being a large man, "I'm simply a trash collector," and he pointedly looked toward the blonde on the ground, "and it seems someone's misplaced their garbage."

The Negotiator passed by the dark-haired woman and stopped moving when he was roughly two steps from Sergio.

"Listen," Sergio huffed, "if you're implying you want to purchase time with my whore- "

"- No, no, sir," Noah interrupted with a quick laugh, "I'm implying I'll take your damaged goods without paying any charge. - "

"-I don't know who the _fuck_ you think you are- "

"- The merchandise is bleeding from her nose, certainly no longer has the spirit to provide a man an enjoyable evening. You honestly expect payment for her?"

The blonde woman quieted, daring to lift her head and observe the man antagonizing the pimp.

Sergio was fuming. He would have swung his fist at the irritating intruder if the man wasn't more than half-a-foot taller than him ...

"You moron ... do I have to repeat myself?_ I'm affiliated with the Bianchi family_," Sergio shouted angrily.

Noah ignored him, extending a hand toward the fallen female.

"Come with me, my dear," Reed instructed with that odd smile of his.

The Negotiator got the exact response he was hoping for. Sergio, insulted and ignored in front of his own whores, could no longer control his anger. He reached out to smack at Noah's extended arm.

"Do you know who I-"

With surprising swiftness, Noah's left fist plunged fiercely into the man's stomach. Sergio bent over, temporarily losing the ability to breathe. It felt like one-hundred pounds of cement had been ruthlessly slammed into his body.

The Negotiator permitted no time for recovery, grabbing at the man's shirt with a single hand and shoving the stunned man back against the brick wall.

"Yes, Sergio Belini. I know exactly who you are. You've been a member of the Bianchi crime family for over twenty-three years and yet have only been granted control of a paltry prostitution ring of less than ten whores. No wife. No children. Consequently, I suspect," Noah taunted as he reached into his suit to pull out a curved knife, "no one will miss you."

Reed smirked when the gasping man's eyes filled with terror.

"Perhaps you two should look away," the Negotiator suggested to the two whores, glancing at them. The dark-haired woman turned around immediately, but the blonde rose to her feet and took a step closer to the two men. In the dim glow of the lantern's light, Reed could see anger behind her tears. It made an interesting image, considering the blood on her face.

Noah smiled, pleased by the woman's response.

"Would you like an anatomy lesson, my dear?" Reed inquired as he returned his attentions to the Bianchi mobster, "Sergio's carotid arteries are located here ... and here," Noah demonstrated those points with the tip of his knife, "cut deep enough to sever one of these, and your victim will lose consciousness within approximately two minutes and expire shortly after. Now, if you want an extended session with your prey ... opt for one of the four jugular veins."

"N-no! They'll ... kill you ... for this!" The Bianchi gangster was finally beginning to reclaim his strength and began to pitifully squirm in Noah's single-handed hold. Reed went ahead and began slicing into the man's neck as a result.

"This jugular vein, in particular, is easy to find," the Negotiator promised as his knife slid through the man's flesh. He smiled as blood began to spill forth, and started using both hands to restrain the man's now-writhing body. The narration continued: "with a pierced jugular, men will usually last about seven minutes. Allows time for some extra fun."

"I understand," the blonde whore whispered, taking a step closer to watch the panicked, pained look in Sergio's eyes. She spat at the struggling man, which made Noah chuckle.

After two minutes of desperate wriggling, Sergio's movements began to slow.

"Now ... I may embarrass myself, here," Noah admitted with a smile, "I've been working on this technique for a while and I haven't quite perfected it yet ... "

Reed lifted his knife and moved the tip of it directly in front of Sergio's left eye. This act renewed the bleeding man's struggles, and he _screamed_.

"Stop it, Sergio," Noah instructed with an awfully mirthful expression, "this is more difficult than you'd think."

Sergio closed his eyes, sobbing now. It's a shame eyelids didn't provide much defense against a knife.

Reed proceeded to attempt to gouge out both of the dying man's eyes with merely the tip of his knife. The first eye became squished into the back of Sergio's socket, the second eye Noah managed to successfully pop out.

After the deed was done, the Negotiator released the man, satisfied. The gangster's spasming body collapsed to the ground.

With a content sigh, Noah glanced at the blonde whore before he pulled out a handkerchief to wipe the excess blood and body tissue off his blade. He found himself impressed that she never once looked away ... Even now, she was staring at the man's corpse.

"So, my dear, what have you learned?" Noah asked, amused.

"If I need to debilitate a man .. seek out his carotid," and she looked up toward the twisted man, her voice both dangerous and soft, "if I want him to suffer ...the jugular."

"Knowledge begets power," Reed commented, vaguely intrigued by the whore, "I wonder if a mere woman is capable of wielding it."

"I will," she promised with steel in her voice.

Noah smiled.

The dark-haired girl turned back to face them. After a hesitant moment, she ran past Noah to Sergio's fallen body. Struggling not to look toward that mutiliated skull, she began digging through the dead man's pockets for money.

The Negotiator laughed at the opportunistic act. Yes, it was safe to assume no one would miss this man. The laughter forced the dark-haired girl to glance up at him nervously.

"You don't mind if we take it, do you?" The whore inquired ... She certainly had no plans of attempting to keep the money if the sadistic freak wanted it ...

"Help yourself," Reed replied, taking a moment to tip his hat toward each woman, "have a good evening, ladies."

As Noah began to walk away, the voice of the blonde whore caused him to pause.

"Do you ... do you want payment, sir?"

Noah mused it over. It was an interesting offer. In Reed's experience, acts of violence usually weren't accompanied by sexual proposals ...

Without turning, the Negotiator answered her.

" ... A pair of blue eyes have embedded themselves within my mind. If either of you can rid me of them, I'll pay you both a month's worth of your wages."

That got both the beaten whore's and the opportunistic whore's attentions.

**Author's Note: **This chapter is a LOT of set-up and character development. I used 'snapshot' scenes to advance the plot in this chapter(I tend not to bother with lengthy descriptions ... I know I personally don't care if someone's curtains are purple or pink, etc), Next chapter should have really exciting twists and will be significantly more fun to read, I promise.

I have a question I'm hoping some of you will answer: Do we want a sex scene in every chapter? Do we only want Booker/Elizabeth scenes? For example I could easily start the next chapter with Noah enjoying the two whores(dont worry he wouldn't go coo-coo for coco puffs on them) but I have no idea if there's any interest in pairings besides Book/Eli.

Thank you to ALL my reviewers. You guys have no idea how motivational your support is. It really makes me excited to write more for you all.

Shout-outs for my repeat reviews!

**Shtoops:** You're kind of awesome. Seriously. You're a very interesting person. Much appreciated!

**AgentGv01: ** I love the fact that I feel like you're bouncing ideas off with me. You leave the kind of reviews that can encourage a writer to create a scene or plot-twist they otherwise wouldn't have thought of. Thank you.

**Paul Perkins: **Man, you're ongoing support is so appreciated. Thank you, sir.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **Sooo ... chapter starts off with two sex scenes, and finishes with a lot of plot-moving scenes. I wasn't sure if I wanted to keep the scene with the Bianchi prostitutes but decided yes since Lillian will be seen again in future chapters and deserves an introduction. That said, in the future, count on sex scenes to predominantly featuring Booker/Eliz unless viewers ask to see other characters.

Original Character Profile List for anyone confused or curious(this will be updated with each chapter): tobelongfic . livejournal . com

Take out the spaces.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_Just tell her ... _Booker urged himself, when he felt a warm, moist touch press into his erection. The same erection he had every night he slept next to Elizabeth.

_Tell her you made a mistake and went to the casino last night ... _

DeWitt groaned when he felt a tongue lap playfully at his testicles before sliding along the bottom of his shaft.

_Tell her you can't even afford tomorrow's payment ..._

"Elizabeth, I - " The ex-soldier started to speak, but the feel of his eager companion's wet mouth closing upon the bulbous tip of his cock silenced him. Booker bit his tongue and lifted the bedsheet so he could peer at Elizabeth's gorgeous mouth wrapping around his sweaty dickmeat. The image of her nearly made his heart stop: his beautiful Elizabeth in a slinky, lace nightgown sucking on his prick.

The brunette pulled off of him long enough to flash a sweet, flirty smile before returning to the task. DeWitt found himself sighing softly as she swirled her tongue across the tip of him.

Really. This wasn't the sort of thing every lady was willing to do, in this era. And Booker was very, very glad she wasn't one of those ladies.

Those pretty lips squeezed his dick. She slowly, teasingly began to slide more and more of DeWitt's long rod into her mouth.

"Elizabeth," Booker called out, leaning upward. She paused to look at him before forming a tantalizing suction and slowly, inch-by-inch, removing her tight mouth from his prick.

"Yes?" She asked, taking a sexy lick of that salty dick.

" ... Your mouth is incredible," DeWitt revealed sincerely, "... but I want your body. Now."

Elizabeth smirked, moving to straddle Booker's thighs. The pretty girl removed her nightgown, revealing that pale, beautiful body. She pressed the mound between her thighs teasingly against the ex-soldier's straining shaft.

"I've been waiting all night for you to return home, Booker," she whispered, running a soft hand across the plane of muscle on his chest, "made myself a little moist just thinking about you."

The touch of her skin and those lustful blue eyes made DeWitt's cock pulse.

"Now ... " He repeated insistently. With a teasing smile, she gripped onto his prick and lifted her hips. Within a few pokes, his dick found her eager womanhood and slipped past her snug entrance.

The dark-haired female was quite moist, as promised.

"Oo," Elizabeth moaned at the intrusion. She stopped when she had about three inches of prick inside her.

The ex-Pinkerton grit his teeth and grabbed at her hips, managing to stave off an embarrassingly quick orgasm. It wasn't fair, after all ... Elizabeth's sensual licks were ridiculously arousing.

"It ... it feels bigger," she huffed. Last time she was wet like this Booker slid into her so easily ... now she felt ridiculously stuffed despite her preexisting arousal.

"It's the position," DeWitt explained, reaching upward to grab at her breasts. He squeezed and rubbed them gently as she lowered herself onto his throbbing erection.

Elizabeth's pussy was straining around that cockmeat. Still, she continued her steady descent. The struggling girl groaned when Booker's prick was full embedded in her quivering quim.

"Try to relax, Elizabeth ... " DeWitt instructed sympathetically, massaging her nipples with his thumbs.

She attempted to roll her hips and begin thrusting but found herself awkwardly pausing every few seconds. Eventually, the pale beauty conjured enough willpower to begin easing her tight snatch up and down that pole.

_How the hell did I get this girl ... _

Booker watched the gorgeous woman. The way she her breasts bobbed within his grasp as she began to develop a smoother rhythm, the sighs escaping her lips, the way her eyes snapped shut as she concentrated on the feel of DeWitt's penetrating flesh.

"It's thick," she gasped out, "it feels ... good. I - Ooh ... "

Elizabeth's hands were resting on her father's strong chest, providing support for her erotic efforts.

The ex-soldier continued to work on those pink, hardened nipples. Tugging gently at the nubs, squeezing and rolling them between her fingers as she continued to ride him.

The temperature rose. Elizabeth was sweating already. Her attentions kept shifting back and forth from the sizzling shocks of pleasure Booker brought to her breasts and the rush developing within her pussy.

The sexy woman's eyes partially opened. She found Booker staring at her with a need she knew was equal to her own.

"You're filling me," she murmured breathlessly, continuing to bounce on that prick, "you're stretching me ..."

Those words flipped a switch within DeWitt. The powerful man reached upward, wrapping his arms around the woman's back and tugged her down against his body.

There was an intimate pause. Their bodies pressed against each other ... their chests, their thighs, their sensual union ...

Then Booker began to thrust up into her. In this new position Elizabeth was locked against his body, only able to wiggle and squirm as he speared her. She focused on squeezing his rapidly shifting cockflesh with her pussy. The female marveled at the pleasure coursing through her body and began groaning wildly. The way his body slapped into her womanhood produced wild, erotic pulses. That sort of pulsing that occurred when orgasm was approaching ...

"Please! Booker!" She cried out desperately.

DeWitt, himself, was grunting harshly. That dick was fully swollen, throbbing. He rolled his hips stuffing himself as deeply as possible within the gorgeous girl.

"Elizabeth," the man growled throatily.

The beauty was at her limit. Elizabeth's body quivered as that delicious, crippling climax claimed her.

The loud, pleasured moan that filled Booker's ears was enough to make his cock burst mere moments later. He barely managed to pull out of her spasming pussy before he came.

Elizabeth collapsed on top of DeWitt's muscular body. They clutched each other, panting.

When the stunned woman finally caught her breath, she whispered: "I ... _really_ ... like that position."

Booker chuckled softly before kissing her sweaty shoulder.

During their intimate embrace, DeWitt's eyes glanced at the odd puncture wound on Elizabeth's back. It looked as fresh as their first night together.

"Is that ... healing, Elizabeth?"

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It was a fancy hotel room. It possessed a massive bed, hand-crafted furniture, rich decor.

Though Noah Reed, nor the two Bianchi prostitutes that just witnessed the Negotiator murder a man, really cared about the decor.

Noah, still dressed, sat in a large ornate chair in the corner of the room. The bruised blonde was naked, sitting in his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning to place a sensual kiss on his lips before a grip on her pretty hair prevented the union of their mouths.

Reed examined her for a moment, holding her head still. Even with a split lip and a swelling nose, she was still rather attractive.

"You're beautiful," Noah commented, his lips curled into a faint smile, "but I do not kiss whores."

Anger flashed in her brown eyes. Reed's hand released her hair.

"I ... don't want to be one, anymore ... " She insisted, quietly but firmly.

Noah observed her with that eternal smirk of his. He found himself cupping her cheek with his hand, running a thumb across her intact bottom lip.

"What is your name, my dear?"

" ... Lillian."

"I'd prefer you to shun your ignoble profession after I've enjoyed you, Lillian."

Her mouth curled into a pout.

"Go lie on the bed," Reed instructed.

Lillian did as she was told, moving to the bed where the second whore, Maria, was waiting. They made an interesting combination: Maria was thin and pretty, dark-haired, still in her teenage years ... Lillian was several years older and quite a beauty: possessing an incredible bust and a shapely rump. The blonde laid down on her back, as per Reed's instructions, parting her legs to provide Noah a lewd view of her body he very much enjoyed.

Maria gently leaned over the stunning blonde, kissing the woman's lips gently. Lillian found herself appreciative that someone in the room was actually willing to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around that younger girl's petite body. They deepened the kiss, tongues slipping into each other's mouths. Lilian ran her hands across the length of Maria's backside sensually.

"Little one," Noah called.

Maria, pulling from Lilian's mouth, glanced over her shoulder toward their client.

"Prepare her for me," Reed commanded with his trademark smirk.

Lillian's breath hitched at the erotic implications of Reed's command. She glanced at the blonde man, wondering what his body looked like without all those clothes he had on.

Maria, after a brief pause to consider his meaning, leaned upward and redirected her attention to Lillian's pussy. Her soft fingers caressed the woman's clit, causing Lillian to shudder. After a moment of this gentle touching, she moved to slide a finger into the blonde's already slick vagina. Maria wiggled her digit within the other woman for a minute.

"Sweetheart," Noah interrupted with an amused expression.

Maria turned toward him.

"If a friend of yours asked for a physical description of me, what words would you use ... ?"

" ... handsome," the young one stated, finding the question slightly odd.

"Why thank you. Anything more?"

" ... strong," she responded.

"True. What else?"

" ... big."

"Indeed," Noah stated with a smile, "I'd like to add _proportional_ to our list."

She blinked at him silently.

Noah released a mirthful sigh, pointing a finger toward Lillian's cunt before lifting that very finger upward for the dark-haired whore to observe.

"You truly believe a single svelte finger is going to prepare her for me?" As Noah asked the question, he made a point of raising an additional three fingers.

"Oh," Maria responded shyly. The young whore spared a nervous glance at Lillian before slowly sliding three more fingers into that moist pussy. Lillian groaned as those four fingers twisted within her passage. After a moment, the dark-haired girl began to slide her fingers in and out of Lillian's sticky tunnel.

"It feels good, Maria," Lillian whispered, arching her hips slightly. The words encouraged the dark-haired whore, who started repetitively jabbing her fingers into that cooperative pussy.

Noah watched for a few minutes, smiling. Lillian was still enthusiastic about putting on a good show for her savior, despite his insulting refusal to kiss her earlier. The blonde whore groaned, dripping pussy juices as Maria continued to work her.

The Negotiator stood, causing both women to pause. Lillian watched the tall man step toward Maria and lean down to whisper something in the young female's ear. Whatever he said forced a wide-eyed look from the petite female.

Noah patted the younger prostitute on the head before venturing toward the head of the bed to look down at Lillian.

As she met his cool gaze, Lillian felt Maria apply increased pressure on her cunt. She groaned loudly, attempting to spread her legs as widely as possible to facilitate the insertion of Maria's entire hand. Lillian squirmed, arched and silently thanked the heavens that Maria was inherently small. Her pussy pulsed and protested when the largest diameter of that hand slid inside her body. She moaned twice when she felt Maria's appendage slowly twist within her. The intense stretching felt ... incredible. The throb of her womanhood became overwhelming. She was gasping and starting to sweat ...

Distantly, Lillian was aware she was still being watched. Breathing softly, her half-lidden eyes shifted toward her attractive client. The frustrated blonde caught his steel-colored eyes and she spied a flicker of lust in them.

"Did I offend you earlier?" Reed questioned, still smiling, but with a certain roughness in his voice as his hands moved to casually unbutton his vest, "allow me to make amends."

Lillian managed an exasperated yet sexy grin at the man, before Maria's hand began moving deeper within her.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It was friday morning. In less than fourteen hours, Ernest would be outside the apartment ... waiting for money Booker didn't have.

DeWitt felt sick. He wondered if the previous night was the last time he'd ever hold and pleasure Elizabeth. Would Noah Reed show up in the middle of the night with violent intentions? Would he wait until the next morning? Would torture or threats be used to encourage Booker to find money immediately? Or would Noah simply kill him for the missed payment?

Would they ... go after Anna or Elizabeth?

Booker knew he'd sooner kill Noah than surrender quietly, but even if he succeeded ... New York City had a vast supply of thugs and murderers willing to go after nobodies for large sums of money.

_Can't kill everyone ... _

DeWitt found Elizabeth playing with Anna in the nursery.

"Elizabeth ... I may be out late tonight. I got a lot of work to do today. Will you ... be all right with her?"

The dark-haired woman glanced at him with a warm expression, "absolutely." Surgoy had took his two boys out of town to visit relatives, so Elizabeth's services weren't needed at his estate for the next week.

The ex-Pinkerton forced a smile and leaned down to press a gentle, lingering kiss on her lips. Then he shifted his attention to little Anna. She smiled and giggled when Booker lifted her so he could plant repeated kisses on her cheeks and face.

"Be good for dada," DeWitt whispered, cradling her.

"Dada ... " Anna squealed.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Hours later, DeWitt found himself at an exceptionally seedy bar. He asked around for underhanded work, making it clear he'd didn't care if the job was dirty.

Soon, her found his opportunity.

"So you need money quick, eh?" The old man, Mr. Emerson, inquired humorlessly.

"Yah," The ex-Pinkerton responded.

"I'll make this short, then. My wife thinks I'm at the city of Buffalo on a business trip. She is currently engaging in acts of carnality with a pathetic little pissant. I want you to go permanently end their illicit affair."

" ... I'm not going to kill your wife."

"Nor would I want you to. She's the mother of my children, after all. Kill the man, teach my wife a lesson. I want her looking ugly for the next few weeks, if you understand my meaning. "

Booker sulked for a small moment. He thought of Anna and Elizabeth before asking: " ... How much are you paying?"

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ernest Jacoby was at his post on the street outside of DeWitt's apartment at 11:30 pm, as was standard for collection night.

The night would have three major surprises for Ernest. The first was that, within minutes of Jacoby's arrival, a ford vehicle ominously arrived onto the street. It parked at the corner before the headlights went out.

Ernest stroked his extravagant mustache, surprised.

_Is it ... the Immigrant Mafia? Are they truly coming after Booker over the incident at Surgoy's estate ... ? _

Ten minutes passed. Ernest's anxiety and frustration built as each moment went by. He was actively glaring at the vehicle, unable to see the occupants of the car but knowing fully well they could see him underneath the lamp-post.

_Would they really dare insult Noah and the Galucci family by going after our target?_

Jacoby, perhaps due to the weeks of increasing frustration he felt over the entire DeWitt situation, boldly approached the car ... though he was very careful not to make any sudden movements with his hands and kept them within sight at all times.

When he reached the vehicle, he tapped on the mysterious car's driver-side car window. The window was rolled downward, revealing four thugs of different shapes and sizes. The one in the driver's seat was short and clean-shaven.

"Lovely evening, isn't it, sir?" The man asked with an accent Ernest couldn't easily identify. Jacoby's lips curled into a bitter frown.

"Immigrant immitation-mafiosos," the debt-collector snarled.

"I do not appreciate your tone, sir," the man responded seriously.

"Booker DeWitt is under the protection of Noah Reed and the Galucci family," Ernest growled.

"I see," the driver responded after staring at Jacoby for a quiet moment.

A meaty redhaired man in the backseat snickered: "Well, you're quite-"

"Shut up, Danny," the driver interrupted instantly before turning his attentions back toward Jacoby, "so, Noah Reed's protection, eh? I don't suppose he could stop us if we were to walk into DeWitt's apartment right now and shoot him."

"Obviously, Mr. Reed isn't here, and I certainly cannot stop you _gentlemen_ if that's what you all decide to do," Ernest barked, "But allow me to warn you ... if you interfere with Mr. Reed's business, you best pray to the heavenly father for your death to be a quick one."

"Yes, yes, I'm aware of the Negotiator's reputation ... " the driver responded with a sly smile, "I've been meaning to have a chat with the man, but he can be rather hard to find. Any idea how we can get in contact with him?"

"Who are you?" Jacoby inquired.

"Michal Nogowski," the driver revealed, reaching into his suitjacket and pulling out a business card.

"I'll inform Mr. Reed of your interest," Jacoby sneered, snatching the card, "and would like to suggest that you gentlemen leave _promptly_."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_Anna's cries woke Elizabeth._

_The concerned female approached the nursery's door, listening to the infant's hysterical shrieks. A strong sense of foreboding gripped her. She grabbed the door's handle, stepped inside ..._

_Hesitantly, Elizabeth stepped toward the crib._

_There was the tell-tale sign of parallels inappropriately mixing: Anna was bleeding from her nose. But the infant's cries were increasing in loudness and desperation and soon, blood was dribbling from the infant's mouth and pooling in the corner's of her closed eyes._

_The sight filled Elizabeth with a crippling sense of guilt and dread. Anna's suffering was her fault._

_"A-Anna, I'm sorry ... " Elizabeth called out before bursting into a sob. She reached toward the infant ..._

_The door behind her slammed open. The petite female turned to see Booker step into the room._

_"What are you doing?" Booker growled as he stepped toward her, "get away from her!" _

_"I'm ... I'm sorry, I didn't know this would happen ... "_

_Booker looked into the crib to witness his daughter's shrieks and blood. Rage and panic filled his eyes. He turned, grabbing Elizabeth's slender shoulders and shaking her roughly._

_"What did you do to her?!_

_"Booker," Elizabeth cried out, horrified. _

_He screamed: "What the hell did you do to my daughter?!"_

The nightmare forced Elizabeth to wake, startled. Without wasting a second, she leapt from Booker's bed and ran through the apartment to check on Anna within the nursery.

The infant was sleeping soundly. No blood.

_What if it's a premonition ... ? What if it happens? What if ... over time my presence here hurts Anna? What if I can't stay with Booker ... _

Elizabeth attempted to calm herself. She thought of the Luctece siblings.

_No, no ... it was just a nightmare. If they can exist together in the same parallel ... then my presence here shouldn't hurt Anna ... _

The disconcerted female only wished she could know for sure.

Quietly, Elizabeth closed the nursery door and glanced at the clock. Booker hadn't been home yet when she attempted to retire for the night around ten o'clock. Now it was a few minutes past midnight and there still was no sign of him.

_It's collection night ... _The troubled beauty realized. She stepped to the apartment window and could see the debt-collector DeWitt had identified as Ernest standing beneath a street-light at the corner.

_Booker hasn't made the payment yet ... ? _

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ernest Jacoby was feeling pretty miserable at this point, standing underneath that street-lamp impatiently. The appearance of the Immigrant Mafia put him in an awful mood, even though they displayed remarkable cooperation when Jacoby insisted they leave.

Now Booker was ... late.

Ernest Jacoby was checking his watch every four minutes. Normally, receiving payments from DeWitt was a relatively smooth process. The ex-Pinkerton would typically show up with an envelope of money at least fifteen minutes before midnight. But, tonight ...

_Where are you, Mr. DeWitt? _Ernest wondered silently, removing his pocketwatch from his suitjacket to check the time.

It was ten minutes past midnight.

_He must not have the money ... _

A woman's voice interrupted Jacoby's thoughts: "Booker will be here."

Ernest glanced upward to see a stunning, dark-haired woman approach him.

"He'll be here," the young female repeated firmly, moving into the light of the street-lamp. The middle-aged man's gaze lingered on her, thinking DeWitt was a lucky lover and Noah had excellent taste in women.

"He's late," Ernest responded, looking away from those gorgeous blue eyes, "Mr. Reed doesn't accept late payments. "

"Well, I don't see Mr. Reed here," Elizabeth noted quickly, "so I can't imagine he'd realize the payment is late unless you informed him."

Jacoby responded with silence, folding his arms about his chest. After a quiet moment, Elizabeth approached the street-lamp and leaned against it. They were side-by-side now, waiting for the ex-Pinkerton without words. Ernest refused to look at the pretty female and mused over Booker's ridiculously deplorable situation involving the attention of not one, but two mafias as well as the exceptionally violent Negotiator.

They remained silent for nearly a half hour before Elizabeth's confidence in Booker finally began to waver.

"What happens if he misses a payment?" She asked quietly.

"It's hard to say, miss. Depends on multiple factors," Ernest admitted after a sigh.

"Such as?"

"Whether the boss thinks a debtor will respond to ... some motivation, for example."

"You mean torture?" Elizabeth accused sharply.

"Yes, miss, I mean torture," Ernest responded in a bitter tone.

Another awkward silence.

"Is Mr. Reed despicable enough to go after the women and children of the men he seeks to ... 'motivate'?"

"You needn't worry," Ernest responded instantly, thinking of Noah's fascination with her ...

"That's not what I asked, sir," the determined female pointed out.

Jacoby distantly remembered Noah describing this mysterious woman as 'willful' ... The Negotiator was certainly right. Ernest finally turned to face the petite female, examining her expression. The debt-collector wasn't stupid enough to volunteer any more information on Noah Reed, but he certainly had information that could help the woman.

"Miss ... Mr. DeWitt was late home two eves ago. Would you care to know why?" Jacoby inquired grimly.

Elizabeth's expression darkened.

"He was at an underground casino, gambling away tonight's payment," Ernest informed her sadly.

The expected emotion was evident on the pretty girl's face: a pained look inspired by surprise and betrayal.

"I don't - "

"- It's truth, miss," the debt-collector interrupted, "honestly, it wouldn't surprise me if he were there right now."

Ernest's heart felt heavy as he watched tears form in those bitter blue eyes.

_Poor girl ... it must be love, to look so wounded ... _

"Listen," Jacoby entreated gently, "I know not what ties you to Mr. DeWitt. You're not the mother of his child nor his wife. If it is within your power than I implore you: walk away. Death is just beyond that man's shoulder ... about to make his claim."

Elizabeth's gaze fell downward, despairingly. Ernest could never guess the sort of ties she had to Booker and Anna ...

"Believe me, miss," the disheartened man murmured as he pulled out his pocketwatch to check the time: 12:47, "I was rooting for Mr. DeWitt. Truly, I was."

Ernest found himself lingering near the sad beauty for an additional minute, wishing he could do more to console her. Reed would probably put a bullet in his head if he had heard this conversation or realized Jacoby had waited an extra forty-eight minutes past collection time ...

"I'll pray for you, though I'm not sure if God has an ear for the words of men like me," Jacoby offered somberly before tipping his hat and turning away from her.

"Wait ... " Elizabeth called out.

Ernest partially turned to look at her.

" ... Tell Mr. Reed I have his next payment," the petite woman requested boldly.

A surprised look emerged on Jacoby's face, followed instantly by an expression of sympathy.

"Miss ... you shouldn't bargain with that man, nor entertain his arrant affections."

The woman's response was resolute: "Booker has given me no choice."

The distressed man looked away from her, conflicted. He warned: "My lady, Mr. Reed _will_ respond to this summon ... "

"I'm well-aware, sir."

A pause as he mulled it over. Ernest couldn't help but think a decent human being would refuse to allow the beautiful young woman to commit this folly.

"He ... desires your name," Jacoby finally relented.

"If he wants it," the blue-eyed enigma stated smoothly, "he'll have to come claim it."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Hollow. Broken.

DeWitt was walking home.

Booker couldn't even summon the emotional energy needed to entertain the desperate notion that Ernest would wait beyond midnight for payment. He was just short, anyway. The ex-Pinkerton spent all day indulging scummy jobs and sacrificing his morality simply to end up eleven dollars shy of a full payment.

He tried to focus on Elizabeth and Anna, but in truth, all he could think of was the innocent woman he had attacked earlier. The sound of her cries, her admission of love to the man DeWitt had shot right in front of her, the look of fear and despair on her face.

_I did it for them ... I did it to hear Anna's laugh ... I did it so I can continue to hold Elizabeth at night ...I did it so I can hear Anna say 'I love you' someday ... I did it for Elizabeth's smile._

The mental dialogue was ongoing. He listed every aspect of the two females in his life he treasured, hoping it'd be enough to drive the guilt away. The ex-soldier ignored the fact that the job hadn't even earned him enough money for another two weeks ...

It should have been a pleasant surprise when Booker turned the corner onto his own street to see Elizabeth and Ernest together beneath the streetlamp, but DeWitt couldn't manage any happiness at the moment. Still, it was impressive the resourceful female had managed to keep the debt-collector around nearly an hour after collection time. It may have saved his life if he had the entire payment.

"Ernest ... " DeWitt called out, slowly approaching the pair.

The both turned to look at Booker. Ernest's expression was solemn. Elizabeth looked ... angry.

"Were you out gambling again?" Those pretty lips snarled furiously.

Booker's steps paused. He glanced at Ernest, who instantly looked away. If DeWitt wasn't feeling emotionally-crippled at the moment, he may have been angry at the man for sharing his dark secret with Elizabeth.

"You've took every penny I've made," the infuriated female snapped, stepping before the despondent ex-Pinkerton, " ... you touched me as though we were lovers last night, you ... All we've shared and you gambled away a payment we should have been able to afford."

DeWitt had no words.

"Well, is that where you were, Booker? A casino?" Elizabeth asked again, "answer me."

"No," the ex-soldier responded slowly, looking into her topaz eyes, "what I did was far worse."

The brunette female's cold look instantly softened by the utterly defeated look DeWitt wore on his face.

_What did you do, Booker ... ? _Elizabeth questioned silently.

"Get back inside," the ex-Pinkerton urged spiritlessly. Booker's command had renewed the dark-haired woman's fire; she folded her arms across her chest, refusing to obey him.

_Very willful,_ Ernest mused. Thoroughly uncomfortable at this point, the debt-collector toyed with his mustache as he watched the two lovers stare at each other. He finally felt compelled to interrupt the tense moment.

"Mr. DeWitt ... Do you, have payment?" Jacoby asked gingerly.

Without looking at the debt-collector's face, Booker removed an envelope from his vest pocket and offered it to him.

When Ernest opened the envelope to count the money, DeWitt revealed his failure: "Don't bother; It's eleven dollars short."

"Booker!" Elizabeth gasped out dismally.

Jacoby's face twisted into a frustrated, sad look as he examined Booker. The dreary man's eyes were cast downward. Booker silently wished Elizabeth hadn't been able to witness this pathetic moment.

"Give me another half-hour. I can scrounge up the rest of the money ... " At this point, the ex-soldier would be willing to knock on all his neighbor's doors and beg for any dollars or change they'd be willing to give.

The softhearted debt-collector sighed pitifully before tugging his wallet from his suit. Booker and Elizabeth watched sorrowfully as Ernest pulled out eleven dollars to add to the ex-Pinkerton's payment.

" ... It should have been a happy day for me, Ernest, " DeWitt murmured "Anna called me dada, this morning. First time."

"Jesus Christ, Booker," Ernest growled with a glare, because eventually sadness and frustration evolves into anger, "were you thinking of her when you went to McFarlane's?"

"Obviously not," Elizabeth quipped bitterly.

Their words hurt like a punch to the ex-soldier's stomach. The truth was Anna and Elizabeth dominated his thoughts. They were the inspiration for the desperate action, after all ... but it'd probably be impossible to convince Elizabeth of this.

The irate female turned toward the irritated debt-collector: "we'll pay you back for your kindness, sir. Please deliver my message to Mr. Reed." After her announcement, the woman turned to walk away.

DeWitt quickly realized she was heading the opposite direction of his apartment.

"Hey ... where are you going?" The ex-soldier stepped after her, "listen! this city is dangerous at night ... "

"Do _not_ follow me, Booker," the feisty female snapped, "you'll enjoy your bedsheets alone this evening."

The ex-Pinkerton absolutely couldn't hold it against her; It was a miracle she had stayed with him this long. The girl had been exceptionally supportive and loving without due cause ... eventually whatever strand of incredible luck that had binded her to the miserable man was doomed to snap.

_I'm ... a monster. She deserves better ... _

Yet the thought did nothing to ease the Ex-soldier's mind or heart. Several dark emotions gnawed on Booker's insides, ripping from him the sanity and comfort that Elizabeth's companionship had given him. The ex-Pinkerton seemed unable to control his own body. He took another step toward Elizabeth's fleeing form, and was about to break into a full-bodied run before Jacobi stopped him.

"-leave her be, Mr. DeWitt," Jacoby advised as he watched the bold girl disappear into the night, "as a man that's been married for twenty-four years, I can tell you that when a woman desires to be left alone ... it's prudent to do so."

" ... What if she doesn't come back?" The tired man's apprehension was suffocating.

"... I suspect she will," as Ernest stuffed the ex-Soldier's payment into a pocket within his suit, "against her better judgment. Now, I need you to focus, Mr. DeWitt. Focus. I can't save you, you have to save yourself. So, tell me ... "

Booker finally turned from the direction Elizabeth had disappeared to and gazed wordlessly toward Jacoby.

The debt-collector continued: "tell me you have a plan. Tell me you have a job lined up. Tell me _something_ ... _anything_."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The phone's shrill ring caught the Negotiator's attention. He glanced at his wallclock: 1:43 AM. It was certainly late for a call.

"Noah," he answered the phone simply.

"It's Ernest. As you would say, it's been an interesting night ... "

"Go on," Reed prompted.

"The Immigrant Mafia made an appearance outside of DeWitt's place."

" ... They were there when you arrived to collect?" The Negotiator questioned, curious.

"No ... they arrived a few minutes after," Ernest explained.

" ... So they happened to arrive at approximately 11:33 PM during DeWitt's biweekly payment night. That's a _remarkable_ coincidence. Are you _sure_ -"

"- I swear, sir. I spoke with them. They mentioned Booker DeWitt by name."

" ... I see. So, you spoke with them?"

"I convinced them to leave. There were four of them. One man identified himself as Michal Nogowski-"

"- Ah, I've heard that man's been looking for me," Noah interrupted. The Negotiator had been postponing any sort of parley with the Immigrant Mafia so far ... He wanted to be prepared for such a meeting, and that meant significant amounts of research needed to be done.

"I've his card."

"His phone number, if you would be so kind," Reed insisted as he retrieved a fountain pen and paper, "also, as many details as you can remember of the three other men."

Ernest shared the information. Noah jotted down notes.

"Very well. I'll look into it," Reed informed, "anything else?"

"Booker DeWitt ... he made his payment ... "

"Shocking," Noah muttered, amused.

" ... He has a two-day business trip planned tomorrow evening. You ... are you going to allow him to leave the city?"

Reed paused for a moment. Typically speaking, when debtors requested permission to leave the city, the answer would be immediate laughter followed by a denial.

"Details," the Negotiator insisted.

"It's an escourt job. It will involve a round-trip train ride to the city of Buffalo."

"He doesn't intend to take his gorgeous lover or his daughter, does he?" Reed inquired, lips curled in a smirk.

"No ... "

"I see."

"I don't think he'll make his next payment without this job," Ernest added honestly.

"I'll allow it," The Negotiator decided.

" ... Truly?"

"It's careless of me to permit this, I know" Reed admitted with a sardonic sigh, "he may desperately flee the realm of my influence and losing him would tarnish my glorious reputation ... but, the thought of him abandoning that beautiful gem of his entices me."

Jacoby instantly realized the 'gem' Noah referred to was DeWitt's alluring dark-haired companion. The disheartened man sighed before moving on to the last revelation he had for Noah: "I spoke with her this eve, sir. She ... measured up to each of your claims."

Reed smirked before asking: "And what sort of conversation did you share with the blue-eyed beauty?"

Ernest, in an apprehensive fit, found himself stroking the hairs of his own mustache.

"The lady is ... concerned. She stated she possessed our next payment. She requested that you, specifically, arrive to collect it."

Reed recalled his initial meeting with the strange, sumptuous female. He fondly remembered all the feisty comments that passed her perfect lips ...

"Excellent work, Ernest," Noah complimented with a short chuckle, "you've delivered me a truly exquisite flower."

Jacoby silently moped on the other end of the phone.

"Did you happen to acquire her name?"

"No sir," Ernest responded, "she ... beckoned you to come claim it.

"Oh," the Negotiator smiled, for he certainly loved a challenge, "then I shant disappoint her. Rally the troops tomorrow morn. You, Karl, Piero, and Vincenzo will be accompanying me to DeWitt's apartment. I can't imagine Booker will be thrilled to see me when I arrive to collect my prize."

"Sir ... we could tactfully wait until DeWitt leaves for his business trip later tomorrow eve before going to see the lady ... "

"Oh, we certainly _could_," Noah responded, voice dripping with devlish humor, "but that wouldn't be nearly as fun."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_What did you do, Booker?_

The remorseful expression Elizabeth had seen on DeWitt's face had filled her mind with the worst suspicions. It forced her thoughts toward memories and the past ... One sin that now only existed within her mind and several violent sins that would never disappear: a father that had sacrificed his daughter, a young soldier that happily slaughtered dozens of men in a single evening.

Elizabeth sighed. The wounds caused by Booker's secret betrayals were starting to fester. There would be no more secrets, she decided. There would be no more subtle poisons and false promises. DeWitt, though she loved him dearly, could not be trusted. The man was too afflicted, too desperate ...

_I have to use my powers ..._

Perhaps she was forever sacrificing the opportunity for a normal life, but a life without Booker was a far worse fate ... for both herself and Anna.

The determined female ventured into a silent New York City alley before summoning a tear. Months of abstaining from using her powers had not dulled her incredible abilities. Effortlessly, she opened a portal into the recent past and stepped inside.

It was a strange feeling ... watching people and events that occurred in the past without being able to interact with any of it. She was a silent, unseen witness to the entirety of Booker's most recent sin: the morbid proposition made by the old, embittered client, the ex-Pinkerton's reluctant acceptance of the task, the intrusion into the unsuspecting home ...

Mr. Emerson had given Booker a key to the home. DeWitt had worn a mask for the despicable task. And soon, the image of the murder would pierce Elizabeth's heart.

Booker found them in the bedroom.

The lovers had been lying together in bed. Mrs. Emerson screamed when she noticed the masked trespasser and the gun he wielded. The young male desperately leapt onto Mrs. Emerson, a poignant attempt to protect the woman from the armed intruder. DeWitt, without hesitation, had lifted his gun and shot the man in the back of his skull.

Booker's method of delivering death made Elizabeth think of a river: the motions were fluid, only capable of moving along its set path. Tears swelled in her eyes as she looked at the young man's corpse. What was this man's crime? Love? The powerful female felt sick. She wanted to open a tear, crawl into it and scream.

The sight of Mrs. Emerson's hysterical crying was enough to cause DeWitt to freeze. Elizabeth had the power to peek underneath DeWitt's mask to observe whatever emotions may have touched his face, but she found herself unwilling to check.

The blonde female slipped out from underneath the corpse of her lover, leaving the bed before backing into the corner of the room where she continuned to sob.

_She's too young for her heartless old husband ... too sweet. Don't do it, Booker,_ Elizabeth silently implored.

"I ... loved him! I loved him ... !" Mrs. Emerson howled mournfully. The words seemed to inspire DeWitt to act. The ex-Pinkerton stalked toward the fearful female. She begged and cried as Booker snagged her arms. After attempting to control the woman's desperate squirming, he managed to land a half-hearted smack across her face. Stunned, the wounded female's panicked shrieking became a low pained cry. Booker struck her again, hard enough that the woman fell to the floor.

Elizabeth couldn't prevent tears from streaming down on her own face. It was convenient that DeWitt's task was now fully completed ... she couldn't watch anymore.

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Elizabeth, still in the past, was warily following the unaware Booker back toward their apartment. DeWitt was expressionless ... slowly trudging through the city streets.

Her father.

Her lover.

A thug.

A murderer.

It was difficult to accept all these words could be considered interchangeable descriptions of her father. Yes, DeWitt had slaughtered possibly hundreds of people in Columbia, but they were virtually all cases of self-defense. Yes, DeWitt had slaughtered dozens at Wounded Knee, but it was a time of war ...

_This was a mistake_ ... Elizabeth lamented sadly. She should have never came to this realm. She should have never seduced Booker. She shouldn't even exist right now. Would any of the parallel sisters she lost believe this horrid act of murder was permissible? Booker just shot a defenseless man in his skull, directly in front of the woman who loved him. Could such an act ever be justified?

Elizabeth remembered that Booker feared Noah Reed ... and suspected Anna and herself were in danger so long as the debt remained unpaid. Did DeWitt just kill an innocent man thinking he was protecting his loved ones?

_I don't know if I can forgive you this time ... Booker ..._

DeWitt's motions suddenly stopped.

Elizabeth paused to observe the man.

After a still moment, Booker stepped to the closest building. He pressed his back against it's brick wall and slowly slid down to sit on the ground.

"I'm sorry, Anna," DeWitt's hands moved to cover his eyes as emitted the tortured apology, "I'm sorry ... Elizabeth. I want to start over ... I want be someone else."

Elizabeth's heart drooped. Tears, again, gathered in those blue eyes. She thought of Comstock's insidious birth, a man created by overwhelming remorse and fear.

The dark-haired female fell to her knees before DeWitt. She spoke to him, though she knew fully well he could neither see nor hear her.

"I'm sorry, Booker. I've let you endure this alone. I have all these powers and I ... I let you sink into this hellish hole you're in. I'm going to fix this; I will. You ... never gave up on me, in Columbia. Even when I ran from you ... or attacked you. Even when Songbird took me. Even after you saw ... what I could have become. You never gave up ... and I ... " she clenched her fists, gazing at the broken man, "I won't give up on you, Booker."

After a few dismal minutes of watching her father, Elizabeth realized that he would have been on time for his payment had he not stopped to shed these silent tears.

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**Author's Note: ** Note for Booker fans: He's gonna pull it together in this story soon, and I really want to get to the parts where I can write him in a more positive, heroic fashion.

For anyone curious: eleven bucks in the early 20th century was about two-hundred fifty bucks in today's money... so Ernest did throw in a decent chunk of change into Booker's payment.

Anyway! Next chapter should be a shit-ton of fun. There's an intense confrontation between Booker and Noah, Elizabeth's presence in the story explodes in a big way, Ernest gets himself in trouble ... etc. _**Reviews and ratings are very motivating! Thanks for everyone that took the time to comment.**_ Next semester is about to start so motivation is especially appreciated when it's harder to pump out chapters.

Shout-outs for my repeat reviewers!

**AgentGv01: **Aw, sorry man. When people asked for some plot I went with a mafia angle(New York City, drama, violence ... seemed like a very obvious choice!), and I can't really throw Booker into a mafia war without a significant cast of original characters. :/ You've inspired me to work on a character listing so I hope it helps if you choose to stick with the story.

**Paul Perkins:** You're a hero, my friend. _A hero!_ You've no idea how much your support is appreciated. :D

**Shtoops:** omfg I love the Mark Twain quote. XD That man was brilliant. And thanks for the continued support.

**Mr Brown:** Thank you for your incredibly kind words. :D You've not only left multiple reviews, but very long and detailed ones. Also, I love the fact that you seem to be a Noah Reed fan because honestly he's a blast to write. I tend to get worried that people aren't getting a lot out of characters like Noah and Ernest, so reviews like yours are a huge help. Gracias, Mr. Brown!


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: ** This may be my longest chapter of any fanfic I've written. A lot of cool events happen here so I hope you all enjoy.

Character list has been updated! Please check out the character list if it's been a while since you've read or you're having trouble with the characters: tobelongfic . livejournal . com

Take out the spaces.

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Tension permeated the air; it seemed each time one of the nine women breathed in, the feeling of dread pooled within their lungs.

They were all lined in a row, enduring the uneasy situation silently. Sergio Belini was murdered. The Bianchis wanted answers.

"At least one of you has to know something," Angelo, the mid-ranked Bianchi mafioso, announced simply. Angelo was an average-sized man, perhaps even thin. He was olive-skinned, clean-shaven and wore a large mole on his neck.

Angelo was a stark contrast from the women's ex-pimp, Sergio. He had none of the dead pimp's aggressions ... the man never raised his voice, never showed anger. Yet, the whores were keenly aware this man was just as dangerous as Sergio.

"You girls know what we can offer you all. Drugs, drink, money ... freedom," Angelo reasoned, "I just need whichever one of you that knows something to be brave. We'll protect you, we'll reward you. We just want answers."

The two whores that witnessed the murder, Lillian and Maria, stood together at the far end of the line. They were currently on the opposite side of the room from their interrogator, which gave Lillian the confidence required to lean over to whisper into Maria's ear: "I've sliced two throats since that night, Maria. And should you dare betray the man who saved me, yours will be the third ... "

Maria huffed, frustrated, before whispering back: "I'm not going to reveal your 'hero,' but only because I do not want him to ever come after me. I prefer my eyes within my skull where they belong."

"Are any of the whispers you two lades just shared worthy of the rest of us?" Angelo questioned the two women from afar, curious about the hushed sounds which occurred at the end of his line of whores.

Both females went silent.

Angelo stalked toward Maria and Lillian. He stopped before Maria first, observing the female's fearful, timid expression.

"What's the matter, Maria? Come on, talk to me," the mafioso insisted in a deceptively gentle voice, "what troubles you, beautiful?"

"You ... frighten me, sir," the dark-haired whore responded quietly, unable to look at the man. Sergio, as violent and brutish as he was, managed to be predictable and easily manipulated ... Maria had no idea how to handle Angelo and his kind facade.

"You don't need to be afraid, Maria," the criminal sighed, reaching a hand out to cup Maria's pale face, forcing the female to look at him, "I only hurt people when I have to, you understand?"

The dark-haired whore nodded against his touch.

"Do you understand?" Angelo repeated, expecting verbal acknowledgement.

"Yes, sir," Maria whispered.

The mafioso stepped away from her, turning his attention to Lillian. The blonde-haired whore returned his sharp gaze with a calm, stoic expression. Angelo spent an extra moment observing the diminishing evidence of physical abuse on her face.

"I hear you gave Sergio a lot of trouble, Lily. Perhaps you had a greater reason than the rest of these ladies to want to see the man's throat slashed ... "

Lillian considered her following words carefully.

"Have you been appointed as our new manager, sir?"

"Yes," Angelo answered simply.

"Then I submit to you, sir. I'll do all that I can to fill your pockets with money, and I'll pleasure you as often as you wish," Lillian offered with a submissive bow of her head, "I only regret that I do not possess the information you seek."

The mafioso stared at the pretty female for a long moment before sighing loudly and turning his attention back toward the entire line of whores.

"There's no doubt in my mind: one of you knows who killed Sergio Belini ... and I'll get my answers. This is your last chance to confess while I'm being pleasant about it ... "

No one spoke.

"Strip, all of you," Angelo commanded in a silky tone, "take off all your clothes. Now."

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It had been an exhausting night.

After solemnly bearing witness to Booker's tragic crimes, Elizabeth, with a nearly fervent degree of obsession, began to maneuver through the past to investigate Noah Reed's syndicate. It was time to research her enemies and gauge the amount of intervention required to protect her foolish lover. It wasn't necessarily an easy task. Elizabeth couldn't simply flex her fingers and summon all the past events that interested her. In a reality involving parallel universes, existence was infinite and subsequently difficult to sift through. She could only pluck from time the specific information and memories of the people she was bonded with. Because of this limitation to her power, she had to start with the man she was most familiar with: Ernest Jacoby ... the man responsible for collecting Booker's money.

Elizabeth walked through Ernest's recent past, starting with last night's collection from Booker. She watched the debt-collector scare off four mafiosos in a frustrated fit.

_Is everyone after you, Booker?_ She wondered silently. She'd focus on this new threat on another day.

The dark-haired beauty continued to watch. She found herself smiling sadly at Jacoby's attempts to motivate Booker after she had ran off from the two men. Truly, Ernest had been rooting for them.

Elizabeth's venture through time and space eventually found her way to Ernest's home. The man was a father of three happy children: two sons and a daughter. Jacoby was also an affectionate husband to his plump, merry wife. Elizabeth caught the sight of Ernest kissing his partner's bare belly on a night she was verbally lamenting her increased weight. The blue-eyed enigma developed an increasing fondness for Ernest with every moment she spent watching the man in his home.

The professional side of Jacoby's life was an entirely different story. It took only a few minutes of glancing through Ernest's professional life that she realized the painful duality of his existence. The debt-collector, after a long history of dirty and occasionally violent work, was becoming an extremely bitter and glum employee. The vast majority of Ernest's time was spent researching on behalf of Noah ... often _with_ Noah. Ernest was always the Negotiator's preferred partner for the seemingly endless amounts of research the men performed together. Violent interrogations, bribery, questioning men or their wives, contacting spies ... Ernest and Reed literally spent hours and hours each work day simply gathering information. Jacoby, surprisingly, was a fairly impressive artist ... and could draw men's faces based on verbal description alone. The Negotiator considered this skill the greatest tool possessed by any man in his syndicate, as the man keenly understood that both his survival and success were intrinsically dependent on knowledge.

Elizabeth mused over Ernest's situation. Was Jacoby always emotionally strained over his illegal activities, or had fatherhood and marriage softened his heart? Was it the violence that was getting to him? Was it the criminal intrigue that made him wary - the betrayals and unseen threats? Was it Noah? She silently wished her powers allowed her to read men's thoughts.

Satisfied with her understanding of Ernest's past, she decided it was time to move on to one of Noah's other lackeys. On some level, the fifteen years of familiarity Jacoby had with the Negotiator that enabled him to tolerate the sadist's quirks and taunts ... but Ernest was simply incapable of properly associating with Reed's other criminal employees. There was one man in particular, Vincenzo, that Ernest openly despised and mocked.

Vincenzo Abruzzo. The brute was a difficult man to look at. He was missing several teeth and possessed a long, crooked nose.

Continuing her trend of viewing the recent past first before diving deeper within the depths of time, Elizabeth found herself horrified by a violent sin Vincenzo had committed only three evenings ago. The sadistic bastard had spent hours happily cutting a homeless woman into pieces; she was not dead when he first initiated the task.

_Disgusting savage ..._ She accused silently.

Elizabeth couldn't dwell on the man for long ... his life was littered with acts of depravity and torture. Some of which were tasks were given to him by the Negotiator, others which he apparently hid from Noah. She did find a particular scene that was extremely enlightening regarding Reed's syndicate and New York City's criminal underworld.

It was the day the Negotiator hired Vincenzo.

_Noah was leaning against the wall, smiling as usual, as he watched Vincenzo slice off various patches of skin from a restrained, screaming man - a petty criminal who attempted to steal money from one of the Galucci mafia's prostitutes._

_"You're marvelously violent, Mr. Abruzzo," Noah complimented with a laugh, " I approve."_

_"Thank yeh, sir," Vincenzo responded with a wicked grin as he continued his work._

_"I'll grant you employ within my organization," Reed offered, "there are, however, rules. I expect unconditional adherence."_

_Vincenzo's act of torture was momentarily paused. He looked at Noah._

_"I'm technically no longer affiliated with the Galucci mafia," Reed explained, "but I have enough of an association and reputation with them that I must continue to follow the code of this city's mafia families. They impose cannibalism upon their members, and this policy is emphatically enforced."_

_" ... uh, I don' understan' yer meaning," Vincenzo admitted._

_"We only devour our own kind," the Negotiator reiterated._

_" ... we eat people?"_

_"You're a bit simple, aren't you?" Noah chuckled, "we, exclusively, target people with established criminal connections or activities. We do not kill civilians. If I, or any member of my organization, are accused of harming innocent cityfolk, every member of the Galucci and Bianchi family will be ordered to murder us on sight."_

_"Oh," Vincenzo responded, a little disappointed, "why?"_

_"Currently, the people of this city turn a blind eye to the mafia's illicit practices. Still, the minute the mafia becomes known for spilling the blood of women and children ... the public will lose their sense of complacency and start pointing their trembling fingers. There are approximately four-hundred and sixty mafiosos in this city ... and, no matter how well-equipped or clever they are, they cannot survive the fear and ire of over four million civilians."_

_"So ... don't kill innocents," Vincenzo repeated, unwilling to admit he stopped listening to Noah about half way through his spiel._

_"I suppose this is the only part I require you to understand," the Negotiator declared with a smile, "if you kill anyone without my explicit consent, I'll slow-roast you in my backyard and feed you piece by piece to my mutt. Understood?"_

"Oh Booker," Elizabeth whispered to herself after watching the scene, "Anna and I were never in danger ... "

The extraordinary female continued her research. She looked into more of Noah's men. There was Karl Voheim: a muscular man with bold, masculine facial features. The German's constant state of silent vigilance reminded her of one of New York City's gargoyle sculptures. He and his mentally challenged sister, Dorothy, were both estranged from the rest of the Voheim family ... their parents wanted to permanently place Karl's slow-witted sister into an insane asylum and Karl, without a word, abandoned his family's home with Dorothy to prevent the deed from ever happening. It was a surprisingly touching story.

Elizabeth also sifted through the past of the Negotiator's most skilled marksman as well: Piero Pelosi. She found the man to be unremarkable. He had just reached his twenties and possessed three major appetites: women, adventure and fiction novels involving cowboys or detectives.

The blue-eyed girl sighed, wondering if this research was to her own detriment. Other than Vincenzo and Noah, these men weren't particularly vicious or cruel. What if Booker encountered Ernest, the soft-hearted family man in a gunfight? What if DeWitt had to kill Karl, the diligent guardian of a simple female the civilized world would have eagerly abandoned?

_Why am I so sympathetic to murderers? All these men have murdered ... _She reminded herself. Elizabeth wondered how she would have felt over DeWitt shooting dozens, perhaps hundreds, of people in Columbia if she had looked into each victim's past. She stubbornly wished every member of Noah's syndicate was as dumb and violent as Vincenzo.

_Enough of this. I have to focus on the puppeteer._

With the intention of being extremely thorough, Elizabeth opened a tear and stepped into the past of Noah Reed.

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Thick, sagging clouds hung in the sky.

The Negotiator, about to leave his home, was fetching his umbrella before the shrill cry of his telephone caught his attention.

"Noah," he answered swiftly.

"Eighteen teats for breakfast courtesy of New York City's greatest culinary genius Noah fuckin' Reed," the voice on the other end of the phone barked.

The Negotiator smirked. Conversations with Stefano Galucci never failed to entertain him. The Galucci mafia's mob boss often showed remarkable creativity ...

"Good morning, Stefano. So glad to hear from you," Reed responded in a mockingly casual tone, momentarily ignoring Stefano's bizarre statement, "how's the wife? Still critically unsatisfied with her life, I imagine ... "

"I am fucking tired of -" there was a small pause as Stefano's brain officially interpreted the last part of Noah' greeting as an insult, "What utterance did you make concerning my fucking wife? Have you been conversing with her?"

"Actually, I-"

"-Keep yourself from my fucking wife, Romeo," Stefano growled, "or ll have you tied to the largest statue in central park and pay every pigeon in the city to defecate on you."

Noah released a small chuckle. It's a shame he had plans for the morning, otherwise he would gladly spend hours taunting Stefano just to invoke additional insanities from the mob boss' mouth. Reed, being an ex-member of the Galucci Mafia, had a long history with Stefano ... and the Galucci's mob boss was the only man who dared to speak to the Negotiator in such an insulting, vulgar fashion.

The sadistic murderer would be to first to admit that, sometimes, it's fun to banter with men who weren't entirely terrified or apprehensively respectful toward him.

"As much as I'd love to continue this conversation involving financially-motivated pigeons and multiple 'teats,' I really must encourage you to explain the purpose of this phonecall. I have a date with an exceptionally beautiful woman - "

"- Well, Romeo, expect to be delayed until we clean up your fucking mess."

"Explain your colorful accusation from earlier," Reed insisted, otherwise Stefano may never get to the point, "the one involving women's breasts."

"Gouge out any eyeballs recently, Noah?" Stefano hissed the question.

Reed smirked, recalling the delectable fun he had a few nights ago with Sergio Belini and his two prostitutes ...

"Oh, maybe one or two," the Negotiator admitted facetiously.

"You know, Noah, I wouldn't have thought anything about a Bianchi's throat getting slashed. Nor would I care. Frankly, every Bianchi I've met is a prick. But when it was revealed to me that someone slashed the Bianchi's throat then gouged out the Bianchi's fucking eyes in the middle of a fucking alley, I instantly recognized there's only one sadistic loon in this city - "

"-I must correct you; I only successfully gouged out one eye," Noah interrupted, grinning smugly.

_"God fucking dammit Noah!"_

There was the sound of something being smashed on the other side of the phone. Reed managed to stifle inappropriate laughter.

"Listen, father valued you, and father incited many of your insane whims. But good old dad is dead now, and I've been given charge of the Galucci family. And, I fucking swear this, should the Bianchis accuse you, should the Bianchis decide to _hunt you down_, not a single member of this family will rise to defend you-"

"-I do not require your protection nor your approval for my deeds, Stefano," the Negotiator stated smoothly, "and you now have a single minute to complete this conversation, so attempt to be succinct about it."

On the other end of the phone, Stefano could swear the blood within his brain was beginning to boil.

"I haven't even had my fucking coffee yet and Sergio's nine whores are on exhibit at Lexington Avenue and 45th. I'm going to take a gamble and guess they're being publicly humiliated over his mysterious murder."

This information birthed a moment of silence. Noah thought of the two Bianchi whores that witnessed the murder: Lillian and Maria. He imagined them, naked, among seven other women ... standing at the street corner and enduring the leers and jeers of various cityfolk.

"I see," Noah responded thoughtfully, "let's be serious for a moment, no interruptions, no fantastical metaphors, no asinine threats ... "

"No cocky taunts," Stefano added with a mutter.

"Why are you concerned with how the Bianchis choose to discipline their whores?" Noah questioned, "you truly care to provoke them over such a trivial matter?"

"_They're _provoking _me_," Stefano argued.

"Do consider that the Immigrant Mafia, bringing approximately one-hundred and sixty new criminals into this city, is desperately grasping for allies ... "

"The Bianchis are parading around naked fucking cunts in Galucci territory, Noah."

" ... You stated the display was on Lexington and 45th street," the Negotiator reminded.

"Yes," the mob boss confirmed, "cause that's where this fucking ludicrous display is taking place."

"Stefano, that isn't Galucci territory."

"Yes, Noah, it's fucking Galucci territory. I thought you knew everything about this fucking city."

"The Bianchis have been actively operating within that area for the past seven years. You've done an abysmal job contesting your supposed territory thus far ... "

"Listen, you big blonde prick," Stefano roared, "I'm taking eleven men with me to fucking fix this ridiculous spectacle, and you should feel personally fucking obligated to join me."

Noah sighed with a smirk, again glancing out the window toward the thick gray clouds sagging within the sky. He thought of Lillian.

"I'll join you for two reasons. One, I enjoy watching you embarrass yourself and two, I suspect it'll rain ... and I find the prospect of nine wet, naked women to be very inspiring."

"Aren't you a fucking aristocrat, Noah," Galucci huffed.

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Elizabeth's investigation lasted until the late morning. The Negotiator proved to be rather peculiar. Despite all the past information the powerful female had so merticulously collected, she still found him to be a puzzling individual.

Elizabeth had even found herself researching versions of Noah from alternate parallels with mixed results and emotions. In a few realities, Reed was a complete manifestation of sadism ... killing men, women and children without discrimination. In other versions he was surprisingly normal ... with a proper home and family.

Booker, in comparison, had a more concentrated set of destinies. He was never as unapologetically cruel as the worst version of Noah Reed, but it was also an extreme rarity to find a Booker DeWitt capable of a peaceful, normal life.

In this version of reality, the Negotiator was an extremely selective sadist. His victims were all tied to the mafia or crime in one way or another ... and Elizabeth couldn't help but wonder if Reed was simply adhering to the rules of New York City's world of organized crime or if he had an unspoken set of principles when he chose his targets.

The tired female returned to the present, thoughts turning toward Booker. She didn't want to go home. Not yet, anyway. Her heart was still bleeding for Mrs. Emerson.

_... I wonder if she's all right._

Elizabeth used her preternatural abilities to peer through space to gaze upon the heartbroken woman. She gasped when she saw Mrs. Emerson crying over the corpse of her lover, holding a knife against her own wrist.

Without hesitation, Elizabeth opened a tear and stepped through it.

"Please don't ... think of your children ... "

_Please ... I'll never forgive him if you take your own life ..._

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Much to Ernest's disgust, Reed was over an hour late. The four members of the Negotiator's syndicate were currently waiting in a safehouse that happened to be two blocks from DeWitt's apartment.

This had given Noah's four thugs, Vincenzo, Piero, Karl and Ernest, an opportunity to ... interact. Though Vincenzo and Piero were the only two chatting. They covered several tasteless subjects: guns, female genitalia, torture, violence ...The sound of their voices, particularly Vincenzo's thick accent, was grating on Jacoby's ears.

Karl was the least offensive out of all of them, Ernest decided. And that was probably because Karl averaged about sixteen spoken words a day.

"An' then I told him, 'Shut yer mouth, ya squinty-eyed bastard, or I'll slice ya up an' feed ya to the central park sheeps,' " Vincenzo announced before he and Piero erupted into loud laughter.

"Jesus christ! Cease your fucking rambling Vincenzo!" Ernest yelled with a shocking ferocity.

The laughter immediately stopped. Vincenzo shot a nasty look toward Ernest. Piero was holding back a snicker. Karl, who had been looking out the window of their safehouse, smirked silently.

"What the fuck is yer problem?" Vincenzo growled, taking a step toward Ernest.

"Sheep are herbivore, you god-forsaken imbecile!"

" ... herb-of-what?"

"_Herbivore_," Ernest repeated angrily, "they have flat. Fucking. Teeth!"

"What the fuck do their teets have to do wit' anythin'?" Vincenzo asked, bemused and irritated.

"Lord!" Ernest shouted, thinking steam was accumulating within his brain to the point where it was literally about to pop, "you can't serve human meat, 'squinty-eyed bastard' or otherwise, to a creature with an appetite for plants, simpleton."

"That's enough," Vincenzo snarled, walking directly in front of Ernest and tugging his blade from the sheath at his belt, "I tire of yer disrespectin,' Ernest. Yer always disrespectin.' "

Jacoby folded his arms about his chest, glaring at Vincenzo with a defiant level of confidence.

"Uh, Vinny," Piero spoke, watching them, "you know Reed will flay you alive if you hurt him, ya?" At this point, even Karl had turned from the window to eye the pair of frustrated men.

Vincenzo grunted, pressing the flat-side of his blade into Ernest's neck threateningly.

"I'll tell 'im my fingers slipped," the violent criminal muttered.

"Oh. Oh! Of course Reed will believe that," Ernest berated the man further, "you may as well make your slice before I simply snatch the blade and personally end the misery I endure listening to you speak, _fool_!"

"You fuckin' prick."

The only door to the room opened, revealing the smiling-but-secretly-impatient Negotiator.

"Pardon my delay, gentlemen. It's been an interesting morning," Noah admitted. He noticed Vincenzo's and Ernest's compromised situation but decided, for the sake of time, not to comment on it. Instead, he focused on resolving the situation using only two utterances: "Vincenzo, heel." The Negotiator even added a playful whistle to emphasize the fact that he was treating Vincenzo like a hound.

Ernest produced a mocking smile for Vincenzo. The insulted criminal frowned but wisely decided to sheath his blade and obey Reed's order. In fact, all men moved to follow the Negotiator out of the safehouse so they could begin their trek toward Booker's apartment.

"Ernest is bein' a prick, sir," Vincenzo tattled miserably.

"Oh, good," Reed responded with a smirk, "I had hoped this operation would promote bonding between the pair of you."

"Why the delay, sir?" Jacoby asked Noah, wishing to change the subject.

"I was Stefano Galucci's unwitting pawn for an act of propaganda that required the rescue of nine Bianchi whores from public humiliation."

"Oh," Ernest responded - it truly wasn't an answer anyone could have anticipated.

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Mr. Emerson was walking home, wondering if the brute he had hired earlier delivered on each of the job's requirements. Truly, he hoped his wife was bleeding from her nose or her lips ... with the sort of wounds that would sting whenever she ate or drank. His wife would suspect he had a hand in the murder of her lover, but she'd never be able to prove it.

Perhaps his pretty wife would learn proper obedience and fidelity, and Mr. Emerson wouldn't have to resort to this sort of act again.

Stepping toward the porch of his home during this late morning hour brought the old man the queerest surprise of his life. A flash of light and a hole opened beneath his feet, replacing the stone path that had supported him.

Emerson fell through the tear through space and landed roughly on a hard, rounded green surface. After a full minute of disorientation, he glanced about ... a statue, a torch, a crown ... He was on the shoulder of the statue of Liberty. Jolted, he stared at the landscape of New York City. For a brief second of insanity he imagined the city's towering gray buildings were tombstones.

_What happened? How did I get up here?! _He cringed when he realized he had no means of climbing to safety ... the Liberty statue's neck concaved inward and there were no footholds. Additionally the morning rain had slickened the patina's surface and the wind howled in his ear as though protesting his presence. The dark-hearted man wisely chose to remain on his hands and knees.

"Aren't the French incredible? This is truly a magnificent statue," a female's voice called from above.

Mr. Emerson looked upward to see a dark-haired, blue-eyed woman peeking from the room within lady liberty's crown. She was maybe only twenty-five feet from Emerson's position.

The panicked man ignored the strange female's comments.

"I require assistance!" he called to her, "I've no understanding of how I got here ... "

"Don't worry, good sir," the young lady responded evenly, "I'll help you down. Let's converse, first ... "

"Miss, this is hardly an appropriate time to exchange pleasantries ... Please, go fetch some men to assist me .. "

The mysterious woman disappeared wordlessly within the room of Liberty's crown.

Emerson swallowed.

"Miss? Miss!"

"Right here, sir," the woman's voice emerged from behind him. The old man turned to face the female, stunned. She was quite a sight. The wind tossed her hair and tugged at her skirts like some sort of desperate lover. The female endured the elements with an impassive confidence that disturbed him.

"How did you get down here ... "

"Men are a funny bunch," Elizabeth declared, glancing at the dark, churning waters that surrounded Liberty Island, "I swear they only exist to claim. Whether it be money, women, lives, land ... they claim and claim, then claim again. My own father treated me as a claim, not a daughter, and sold me to another - "

"- Miss ... I apologize for your personal misfortunes, but ... - "

"-My new owner sought to claim my very destiny. He locked me in a tower for nearly two decades, planning to use me for his rather pretentious scheme. Without intervention, my captor would have done anything to maintain his claim on me ... torture, drugs, surgeries, machines that could smother my powers -"

"-The ... the statue should be opened to the public soon," the frightened man interrupted, realizing his heart was quickly approaching a frantic rate, "people will see us and send for help-"

"- No one is going to help you, sir," the pretty female promised gravely, turning her gaze back to the wretched man, "do you understand why I'm so sympathetic to your pretty little wife, Mr. Emerson?"

"I ... don't understand ... How did you know my name? Have we ... met before ... "

"You essentially purchased your wife from her family. Why not? She's beautiful, you're a man of substantial wealth and that's what men do - they _claim_," the strange woman accused, voice saturated with venom.

The words caused the man's heart to flutter thrice within his chest. It was an odd sensation - one he had never felt before. It felt like an internal betrayal of his body.

"She was too young for you sir. Too sweet and beautiful. And when she found a gentle man of a more appropriate age, you reasserted your claim on her and had the man killed."

Mr. Emerson attempted to calm his heart. This woman knew of his crime ... knew of his history.

"You ... it was adultery," the old man protested, slowly attempting to climb onto his feet "there are noble cultures that would have ... stoned her for such a crime ... "

Anger flashed within those pale blue eyes. She thought of the scene she witnessed earlier ... the moment when Mrs. Emerson attempted to marry a blade to her own wrist.

"It took me two hours this morning to convince her not to kill herself," Elizabeth informed as a potent sadness claimed her eyes, " it took two hours to convince her that her children need her, to convince her that her beloved died shielding her because he wanted her to love again."

" ... she's a whore," the man rasped, deciding one little push would rid the world of this irksome woman, "she had no business being with that man ... "

"Good bye, Mr. Emerson. You'll make no more claims," the deceptively dangerous female promised.

Another flash of light emerged and, yet again, the ground beneath Mr. Emerson vanished. Space twisted, and the terrified man screamed as his body fell through the conjured portal.

Elizabeth had placed him high in the sky, again, but this time Lady Liberty would not catch his fall. The blue-eyed girl watched the cruel man plummet downward, twisting wildly in the air. She hoped the last moments of the despicable man's life were filled with exceptional misery and fear.

Predictably, the fall led to a gruesome outcome: Mr. Emerson's corpse was broken and splattered across the shattered shackles of Lady Liberty's feet.

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The sound of knocking woke up Booker. He had been slumped against the dining table in a dreamless, drunken state of unconsciousness.

A painful throb emerged in his head. He opened his eyes and counted seven empty bottles of beer on the table. Perhaps he had drank too much throughout the night ...

Again, there was knocking. The knocking was exacerbating the ache in his head. He really wished it would stop.

_Wait ... is it Elizabeth?_ She had never returned home. Why would she knock? He must have locked the door last night ... perhaps out of fear of debt-collectors and the Immigrant Mafia Ernest had warned him about.

The ex-Pinkerton stood upward slowly, but quickened his pace to unlock the door. The opening of it revealed Noah Reed.

Booker's stomach twisted within him and his heart rate doubled. The two men stared at each other for a few seconds before the Negotiator bursted out into a sharp chuckle, shaking his head.

DeWitt's sensation of fear was quickly replaced by incredible anger. He decided, at that moment, that every aspect of Noah was loathsome. Reed's pale eyes ... his blonde hair, his glasses, his height, his suit ... Each bit of Reed offended him.

"Honestly, Mr. DeWitt," Noah began, still laughing, "I have extremely low expectations of you yet here I am: unduly baffled by the stench of liquour -"

"- What the hell are you doing here," Booker interrupted, "I made my damn payment -"

"- I'm willing to temporarily overlook all your offenses if you would kindly-"

"-I've been keeping my end of the deal, Reed," Booker snarled, stepping forward to stubbornly jam his pointer finger into the center of Noah's chest, "and I'm in no mood ... "

This was the point that DeWitt realized there had been four additional men hiding in the hallway. There was a broad-shouldered man with a chiseled face and a stoic expression ... a stout, ugly man with a crooked nose and a wicked grin ... a thin man who seemed genuinely excited and, behind them, a very dispirited Ernest. The ex-soldier spent a second observing them, estimating his chances of winning a physical fight against Noah's lackeys. Only two of men looked like effective brawlers, Ernest didn't seem to be a particularly apt fighter and the final man was almost scrawny ... Perhaps ... perhaps he could take on the four of them.

Unfortunately ... the massive, formidable Noah Reed was present ... and Booker wasn't even sure if he could outfight the undoubtedly powerful man in a fair match, much less with the assistance of four additional men.

"So ... " the ex-soldier started as a sense of dread welled up inside him, "you brought friends."

"Indeed I have," Noah confirmed with a mocking smile as he lifted a gloved hand to tightly grip onto Booker's extended pointer finger, "and you've now committed one too many offenses for me to simply ignore. - _Gentlemen_."

"Hey! Wait!" DeWitt protested. He vainly attempted to pull his hand away from Noah's grip as the three brutes he couldn't identify rushed toward him. Chiseled-face roughly grabbed at Booker's free arm while Crooked-nose moved to grab the other. Thin-and-happy drew his pistol.

"Have a seat, Mr. DeWitt," Noah instructed, releasing his hold on that pointer finger. The ex-Soldier struggled, nearly jerking himself free of Chiseled-face's and Crooked-nose's hold on him.

"Oh good," Crooked-nose hissed, barely able to sustain his grip on Booker, "I like it when they put up a fight."

"Stop! Stop this! I made my payment!"

The Negotiator observed DeWitt's desperate efforts with both intrigue and amusement. He couldn't help but wonder how a melancholy alcoholic like Booker managed to maintain fairly impressive physical strength. Both Karl and Vincenzo, the men DeWitt had mentally named Chiseled-face and Crooked-nose, were strong men ... and they were having a difficult time subduing the Ex-Pinkerton's powerful struggling.

_He was the White Injun, at a time ... _Noah mused, _perhaps a few remnants of that beast remain within him ..._ Reed would be tempted to test the theory if he hadn't more sensual aspirations for the afternoon.

Thin-and-happy aimed his pistol toward the ex-Pinkerton's skull. The unspoken threat put an end to DeWitt's valiant resistance and the brutes started to drag the apprehensive debtor toward his own dining table and shoved him into one of its chairs. They readjusted their hold on Booker, using the ex-soldier's shoulders to keep him seated.

Ernest was still in the hallway, silently praying his presence would be forgotten. The prayer must have been unheard because it was this exact moment Noah turned to him to make a quiet command: "Find her."

Jacoby nodded and entered the apartment.

The sight of Ernest, the only man in the room who had ever shown him an ounce of sympathy, stirred DeWitt's quickly dwindling sense of hope.

"Ernest! Ernest," Booker called out with an increasing sense of panic, "tell them I made my payment!"

"It's ... not about the money, Mr. DeWitt," Jacoby replied dismally. Without once looking toward Booker, he began to search the tiny apartment for the blue-eyed beauty that had summoned the Negotiator.

"Then what do you want?" Booker growled loudly, turning toward Noah.

Reed's only response was a smirk. He was actively resisting the temptation to say 'your woman.'

Even though Ernest couldn't imagine the firey female hiding from this situation, he performed a thorough search ... checking beneath the bed, in the closet, in the bathroom, the nursery ... Jacoby cringed when he realized the Negotiator's 'prize' was no where to be found. He returned to Noah's spot within the doorway of Booker's apartment, caught the large man's steel gaze and shook his head ... confirming the mysterious woman's absence.

Much to Jacoby's surprise, Reed chuckled. There was still an excellent opportunity for the Negotiator to have some fun, and he had no plans of wasting it.

"Mr. DeWitt," Noah called out, folding his arms across his large chest, "let's review your list of offenses."

The two men locked eyes. Booker, still pinned by the two brutes in his dining room chair, bit his tongue to avoid spitting out an insult.

"First offense: you gambled away a substantial amount of my money at McFarlane's two evenings ago."

"Would this still be considered an offense if I had won money that night?" Booker snarled.

"Hm. I can't even entertain the possibility of you being financially successful," Reed responded dryly, "I must lack your level of imagination. - Second offense: it's the midafternoon and you're holed up in this miserable little apartment of yours, stinking of liquor. How terribly embarrassing and, well, pathetic ... Were you planning on showing up for your little escort job to Buffalo completely inebriated? That always impresses a client - "

" - I had a rough fucking night, ok?-"

"- your third offense: there seems to be an utter lack of motivation. I've collected from men who had enough decency, enough of a sense of self-preservation ... to work every second of their waking-"

"- I made my fucking payment, Reed. Save your lectures for when I actually miss one.-"

"-You keep interrupting me.-"

"-That's because you never stop talking! - "

"-Let's return to the subject of motivation," Noah suggested, smirking at DeWitt's rapidly mounting frustration, "have you given up? Perhaps we should make posthumous arrangements for little Anna - "

"-_Fuck you, Noah_!" Booker roared as the sounds of Mrs. Emerson's cries that resonated within his mind, "you have no fucking idea what I've done to try to pay off this debt!"

Ernest grimaced at Booker's bold display. Crooked-nose's brows were raised. Thin-and-happy was wide-eyed. Karl blinked in awe. Every man in the room seemed shocked by DeWitt's blatant disrespect ... everyone except Noah.

Noah was smiling.

"Oh? Then _enlighten_ me," Reed challenged smugly.

DeWitt's gaze fell to the floor as the complete memory of last night's crime emerged in his mind. He opened his mouth to speak, but words failed to pass by his lips. Suddenly all he could see was Mrs. Emerson's tear-filled eyes. There was an intense minute of silence. Booker couldn't produce the willpower to confess his crime to his audience of sinners.

Finally, a mirthful snort escaped the Negotiator. A dastardly smile enveloped his face as he reached into interior sheath of his suit jacket, pulling out his curved knife before asking: "tell me, Mr. DeWitt, is there a body part of yours that you're not particularly fond of? You're due for a lesson."

Booker's eyes widened as Reed's two lackeys gripped onto his arms and shoved him against the small but sturdy dining table.

"Get the hell off me!" DeWitt snarled as he began to struggle widely. It took all three men, Crooked-nose, Chiseled-face and Thin-and-happy, to hold him down.

"Stop yer squirmin," Crooked-nose scolded, "yer only gonna make this worse for yerself."

Chiseled-face put his large hand on the back of DeWitt's head, keeping the ex-Pinkerton's cheek pressed into the table.

"Well, Mr. DeWitt," Noah taunted, "since you haven't offered any suggestions, I'll choose the body part for you. We need you able to work ... so we'll keep your hands and fingers. We need you mobile so removal of your foot or toes aren't an option ... "

" ... Sir ... " Ernest murmured , attempting to find the words that would help Booker, "this is bad business ... he made his payment."

Reed ignored the comment.

"Mm. I could knock out your teeth ... that's always a bloody fun time," Noah flipped his knife up into the air playfully and caught the handle with practiced ease, "maybe slice off an ear? You certainly don't need two of them ... "

"- I've kept my end of the agreement, Noah!" Booker rasped desperately, straining against the three men's hold on him.

"Oh!" Reed laughed loudly, "we could scalp you! What marvelous irony. We'll consider it an homage to your heroic efforts at Wounded Knee ... "

The taunt produced a crippling, sickening twist in Booker's gut. All the energy seemed to leave his body as several horrific memories of slaughter seized him.

_I ... deserve this ... _The ex-soldier realized as the sound of nearly one-hundred screams filled his mind.

"Yes, I'll have your scalp, Mr. DeWitt. That is my decision. Except, oh ... I am now fretfully recalling the words you spoke to me last time I dared enter your apartment ...you eloquently stated: 'if I catch you in my home again, I'll shoot you' ... "

Booker, though he wasn't capable of much movement, managed to shift his eyes toward the Negotiator. Reed had never even stepped across the threshold to enter his apartment, and DeWitt recognized instantly that Noah had planned to make a game out of this all along ...

.The tall man smirked when he discovered the ex-Pinkerton's spiritless green eyes were focused on him.

"I haven't slept a moment since that day," Noah continued teasingly, "your words cruelly torture me during New York City's darkest hours. Even now I find myself ... trembling in fear. I am unable to come claim your scalp."

Ernest, familiar with Reed's twisted version of fun, felt a potent sense of dread swell inside his heart. Jacoby's dire emotions were magnified when the Negotiator turned to look at him.

"Mr. Jacoby ... " Reed flipped his knife into the air again, but this time he caught it by the blade so the handle was pointed in Ernest's direction, "remove Mr. DeWitt's scalp for me."

Ernest's eyes widened; he stared at the knife Reed devilishly presented to him.

Noah, of course, smiled.

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_Booker can't ever know about my powers._

_Otherwise ... I'll never have a normal life._

Elizabeth had created a tear to enter the Surgoy family's temporarily vacant residence. She was in the master bedroom, examining her face in the expansive dresser mirror. Though she had forgiven Booker for his violent crime ... she still felt unwilling to confront him just yet. It was especially difficult given that she just killed the man that had assigned DeWitt the deplorable task of murdering an innocent and abusing a defenseless woman. The dark-haired girl hadn't even used her powers to peek on her lover from afar.

_I just murdered a man ..._

_He deserved to die ...and his wife deserves a chance for happiness .. _Though she accepted this as truth, Elizabeth still found herself focusing a single undeniable detail of the murder: Mr. Emerson had been defenseless ...

The female mused over her powers, recalling the terrible destiny Comstock had wanted to force upon her. A destiny where she was a mass-murderer. What wickedness could this city summon from her? A city with men like Noah Reed, Vincenzo, Emerson and, yes ... men like Booker DeWitt.

_I can't abuse this. I'm not the judge, jury and executioner of men. I don't ever want to be capable of killing casually ..._

The confliced woman miserably imagined the verdict Booker would receive for his crimes if he ever stood before a judge and jury ...

_Booker was just the hand ... Emerson was both the thought and the word ... _She told herself.

Elizabeth shivered at her reflection. The chilly, moist winds she endured on Lady Liberty's shoulder had wrecked havoc on her. Her hair was damp and unruly; her face colorless and moist; her dress was soaked through.

The look did not inspire confidence. And the one thing she wanted to be for her impending encounter with the Negotiator was confident.

There was only a brief moment of hesitation before Elizabeth opened up Mrs. Surgoy's dressing closet to borrow a dress. She knew the kind woman would have loaned one to her upon request, anyway ... and the blue-eyed girl mentally decided she'd make up for the sneaky act when the Surgoys returned from their family vacation. Perhaps she'd gift them some fresh pie or delectable candies from the local market.

The search for a new gown was a fast one; a gorgeous auburn dress with cream-laced trim had immediately caught her eye. She'd quickly bathe and freshen up before making up with Booker ... then she'd wait for Noah Reed.

Perhaps the girl should have kept a more diligent watch on her unfortunate lover; she was completely unaware the Negotiator and his thugs were already at DeWitt's apartment.

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"If removing DeWitt's scalp without killing him seems too ambitious of a task for you, you may slice off his ear as an alternative," Noah offered, still smiling, still holding out his knife for Ernest to take.

It was a game, Ernest knew. Or perhaps a test. The Negotiator never tasked Jacoby with acts of brutality - it wasn't his role. Such intimate violence was always reserved for either Vincenzo or Noah himself.

"Boss ... allow me the pleasure," Vincenzo requested, "I haven' had the chance to - "

Reed lifted a palm toward Vincenzo, which was a silent command for the violent criminal to stop speaking immediately.

Ernest's imagination entertained multiple possibilities for how this scenario could end as he stared at Noah's blade. He imagined taking the knife and tossing it onto the floor, which would likely prompt the Negotiator to kill him then and there. He imagined flat-out refusing and stepping outside ... but that option would likely end with an extended torture session at Noah's hands. He imagined making a desperate appeal on Booker's behalf ... but he couldn't think of words Reed wouldn't either ignore or laugh at.

_I have to do this. Noah will kill me if I refuse. My wife and children need me ..._

Ernest turned to look at Booker. It was a sad image: those green eyes looked dead, focusing on nothing ... the ex-soldier's struggles had curiously stopped at the mention of Wounded Knee.

Vincenzo, Piero and Karl were all staring at Jacoby expectantly.

The conflicted criminal's apprehension transformed into misery.

"Why toy with me, Noah?" Ernest asked softly, eyes turning moist as he thought of the softness of his wife's hair and the smiles of his three children.

At that very moment, before the Negotiator could even respond, the sound of a baby's cries filled the apartment.

Booker's eyes widened.

"Oh," Noah began, his smile deepening as he turned toward the ex-Pinkerton, "I had nearly forgotten about little Anna. Does she sense her father's distress, I wonder? How very ... precious.-"

"- you son of a bitch!" Booker growled loudly, squirming again.

"Jesus!" Piero hissed as the Negotiator's three thugs braced themselves to maintain their hold of the incredibly powerful ex-Pinkerton.

Ernest cringed at the situation's sudden twist.

"Shall I go fetch her?" Reed inquired heartlessly, flashing a quick wink toward Ernest before sheathing his blade. The Negotiator finally crossed the threshold of the apartment, stepping past the stunned Jacoby to make his way toward the nursery, whistling.

Booker had managed to wiggle off the table and stand upward despite the grip of the three men before he resoundingly roared: "Don't you fucking touch her you sick fucking bastard!" His voice had cracked half way through the desperate demand, and each man in the room was familiar with the tone of a man about to emotionally break.

Noah returned his attention back toward the ex-Pinkerton with a thoughtful look. The struggling paused. Finally, the Negotiator stepped toward the frantic debtor, and stopped within a foot of him. Calm gray eyes met dilated green ones.

Anna's cries continued to fill the apartment.

"Forgive me, Mr. DeWitt," Noah spoke with a smile, "I've been a tad cruel, especially considering that you have, indeed, kept up with your payments ... thus far."

" ... "

"Until your debt is paid, you won't spend a single penny on pokerchips, correct? You won't purchase or drink any more liquor, and you certainly won't be lazing about this pathetic little pit when you should be out seeking work, agreed?"

" ... "

Ernest silently thanked the heavenly father. Based on Noah's words and tone, he knew they were about to walk away without mutilating Booker.

"Do you have any intention of responding to me?" Reed inquired, tilting his head to the side as he observed the ex-Pinkerton.

" ... Fucking _coward_," the ex-soldier snarled.

"Booker!" Ernest gasped out as his dream for a peaceful ending to this encounter instantly evaporated. _You god-damn imbecile ...  
_

Amusement filled the Negotiator's eyes. The game suddenly became _very _interesting.

"Oh, DeWitts," Vincenzo snickered, keeping a secure grip on Booker's right arm even though thier captive wasn't moving, "yer a dead man."

"Go on, Mr. DeWitt," Reed prompted, pleased,"entertain me."

"It's real fucking easy to posture and toss threats to a guy who's being held down by three men," Booker accused, maintaining eye-contact with the sinister debt-collector, "isn't it, Noah?"

"Admittedly, yes," the Negotiator agreed with a teasing smile, "but you'd be surprised all that I can accomplish _with_ ease and _without _assistance. Snapping a grown man's arm in half, for example-"

"-Then prove it, Mr. Reed," Booker sneered, "fight me. Man to man. You. And me."

Noah smirked, contemplating. Reed's response to DeWitt's challenge was an absolute, though currently unannounced, yes, but he had a curiosity that demanded attention ... and the answer would need to be coaxed properly out of Booker.

"You're a bold man, Mr. DeWitt," the Negotiator taunted, "but a lousy mathematician. I'm a full decade younger than you, several inches taller than you and at least forty-five pounds of muscle heavier than you. Knowing all this, you still desire a brawl with me?"

"Yah, Noah, for some reason, I still want to knock your teeth in," DeWitt answered with an intense glare. The ex-Pinkerton was surprising himself with his ability to bark out threats and insults while being restrained by three men. He briefly wondered if it had something to do with all the alcohol he ingested.

"But you're so ... pathetic, Mr. DeWitt," Reed argued mockingly, "a miserable, idle, drunken dog. Killing you would give me the same sense of achievement as striking a woman or kicking a pup ... - "

"-Sounds like the words of a coward that wants to run away." DeWitt contested cockily.

"There_ is_ someone I'm interested in fighting," Noah suggested slyly, "a beast that could bring some glory ... some dignity into our match. The White Injun."

Booker went silent; his expression turned dangerously stoic. Internally, he was recalling the metallic smell of blood ... the sight of death claiming a stranger's eyes.

"Where is he, Mr. DeWitt? All I see before me is a pitiful husk ... a nobody," Noah declared, stepping close so he could grab DeWitt's hair and tug it roughly upward, "tell me all that magnificent malice remains within you. Does the White Injun live? The savage of Wounded Knee? Where is the _beast_ who claimed a confirmed nineteen scalps from the heads of dying men _and _women? I want to see this beast. I _demand_ to see this beast."

Ernest winced at the _excitement_ in Reed's voice. He remembered how fondly the Negotiator researched this particular aspect of Booker's life, extremely pleased at the luck that the man the Galuccis hired him to collect from was a mass-murderer ... There were plenty of murderers in this city, but was there a single other man in New York that could claim they killed dozens in a single night, and brutally mutilated at least nineteen of them?

Vincenzo and Piero were mesmerized by words that promised the man beneath their hands had been responsible for a slaughter worse than any of them had ever accomplished, even worse than anything the infamous Negotiator had accomplished.

Booker glared at Reed for a long moment before finally stating: "it was twenty-four scalps."

"Only nineteen _confirmed _scalps," the Negotiator repeated, releasing DeWitt's hair and setting his hands on his own hips. The pose made him look ... big.

"Believe me, Reed," Booker spoke with excessive spite, "I've relived that night over and over for the past twenty-one years. I claimed twenty-four scalps that day."

"Very well, then," Noah acquiesced, "twenty-four scalps. Now, where's the beast, Mr. DeWitt?"

"You know, Noah," DeWitt responded, with a darkness in his voice that beckoned violence, " ... I'm pretty sure a man like you can bring him out of me."

"Promise?" The Negotiator smirked.

"Call off your dogs, and let's find out."

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**Author's Note: ** This was such an interesting chapter to write. Sorry it took so long, I'm starting a pretty tough semester. _**As always, I love/appreciate reviews and feedback and they really do encourage me to keep going and write more. ** **Even ratings from adultfanfictionnet lurkers are very motivating!**_

Also, **big thanks** to SB for making the Statue of Liberty scene significantly better than it would have been.

Lol. For shits and giggles, you guys can youtube "Oogie Boogie's Song" and compare it to the third last scene in this chapter. Replace 'Oogie Boogie' with 'Negotiator' and 'Santa Claus' with 'Booker' and I could have probably used the song lyrics as the dialogue for that scene. Hahhahaha.

_**Shoutouts for repeat reviewers!**_

**Shtoops:** Is it strange that I want to crawl in your head just to watch what goes on in there? Thank you for your ongoing support. You strike me as a genius and I loved your marvelous, brilliant review. Additionally, the fact that you reached out to me in PM over a semi-awkward situation to support me was so, so appreciated(not only did you reach out, you did _research_!). You also pushed me to go ahead with the mafia aspect of the plot, and ultimately I want to make this a bigger, better story thanks to you. You're definitely one of the major reasons this fic is becoming what it is - I may not have even got to chapter 2 without your support. Lastly, your new quote is equal parts awesome and poignant. God save the Twain.

**Paul Perkins: **PAUL. Thanks for being awesome man. I love that I can always count on your support. I think you made the same plot mistake I did, because I also thought there was more time travel in the story than there actually was. Bioshock Infinite takes place when Booker and Comstock are both thirty-eight, but Comstock aged prematurely because he constantly passed through dimensions and that "diminished" his body. As for the Reed/whores scene, I'm thinking about doing a 'spinoff' fic purely dedicated to sex scenes that don't fit in the story. It'd be my way of making up for sex-less chapters. The Reed/whores scene was interesting to write from an author's perspective because Noah is so different from Booker on a psychological level. Also, group-sex for the win!

**Incidental Vegan Cannibal:** Hey thanks for repeat support! Im gonna stay mum on what happens with the debt repayment, but as a general comment I do think exchanges between Noah/Eliz Would be incredibly sexy(regardless of whether she's being used or a willing participant). Feedback has been so interesting (and valued!) cause after chapter 3 there was little interest in anything besides Booker/Eli scenes but then after chapter 4 I started getting a few requests for Noah scenes. As far as Booker goes, I hope you like the upcoming evolution of his character. Thanks again!

**Mr Brown: **Your super kind reviews have been an ongoing source of inspiration and I thank you. Who needs muses when I got you! You're one of the reviewers in particular that made me feel bad that it took a while to churn out this chapter. You've also had a big effect on my story because I was not going to make Lillian a meaningful character until reading through your reviews(and honestly there's a LOT I can do with her). You got the wheels in my head turning! I'm glad the story has had an emotional impact and I hope future chapters continue to do so. The Reed/Dewitt confrontation has been a lot of fun to write so I hope the buildup I made in previous chapters paid off!


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** Boss fight! Also will post the first chapter of my sex-scene-compilation fic called "Carnality" later tonight if you'd like to see Eli/Booker sex. Hope you all enjoy! As always, I love reviews. Very much.

No NEW characters this chapter but if you need a refresher here's the link for the OC character list(Noah's gang is super prominent this chapter):

tobelongfic . livejournal . com

Take out the spaces.

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_"Your men aren't going to interfere when I have your blood pooling on the floor, are they?"_

_A chuckle._

_"They know better."_

DeWitt would never be able to recall every detail about how the brawl began. There were certain moments, however, that burrowed within his mind.

Booker remembered the feel of hands _still_ holding him down. He remembered the Negotiator's preparation for the impending violence: the removal of his hat, his shoulder holster and gun, his knife ... the casual stripping of a suitjacket that revealed a powerful physique ... the rolling up of dress-sleeves that revealed truly muscular forearms. He couldn't remember feeling any fear, but he _certainly_ remembered that fucking smirk that might as well have been permanently plastered on Noah's fucking face.

The ex-soldier remembered thinking Reed was just an oversized street-thug, just a malicious bully who preyed on the weak, not a man with any true combat experience. He'd later think these thoughts were a mistake.

DeWitt couldn't remember all the specific jests but there was plenty of heckling - from Reed, from his thugs. He remembered the intense sense of betrayal he felt when Ernest's voice contributed to the collective mocking. He also, in fact, remembered the moustached man's words: "Good-bye, you knuckle-headed guttersnipe!"

The Ex-Pinkerton aimed a particularly nasty scowl in the Ernest's direction, but then he noticed a peculiar act: Jacoby was subtly tapping the corner of his own eye from his position behind the unaware Negotiator.

The ex-soldier's attention returned to the large, smug bastard standing in the middle of his apartment, focusing specifically on Noah's glasses and the color gray. He understood the unspoken tip clearly: go for the eyes.

He remembered the calm, confident way Reed spoke the words 'release him.' He remembered the awkward marriage of both amusement and astonishment on the Negotiator's face when the ex-soldier _immediately_ charged forward upon being unleashed.

Finally, Booker remembered the ongoing sound of Anna's cries.

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Ernest didn't know what he had to gain from the potentially futile attempt to aid Booker; He only understood that he deeply, deeply wanted to.

Even if DeWitt pulled it off and killed the Negotiator ... What would that accomplish for the ex-Pinkerton? Perhaps, other than a temporary sense of satisfaction, absolutely nothing. Stefano Galucci would either send more debt-collectors or possibly order for the ex-soldier's assassination on Reed's behalf. Then there was the threat of the Immigrant Mafia, who would sooner or later undoubtedly seek revenge for their fallen members ...

Jacoby forced the glum thoughts from his mind as he heard Reed's smooth command for Booker's release.

_Come on, Mr. DeWitt. Get the glasses. He's nearly visionless without them._

Ernest cringed as he watched Booker surge forward like a violent hound that pulled free of its leash. The ex-Pinkerton would heed Jacoby's discreet counsel and, perhaps overzealously, targeted Noah's glasses.

The price DeWitt paid was a steep one. Who would have guessed both men would debilitate each other at the very onset of their fight?

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Noah was intimidatingly large and heavy with muscle, so he wasn't used to people recklessly charging him. Reed barely managed to shift into an effective boxing stance before DeWitt closed the gap between them.

Booker, predictably, launched a punch straight for the larger man's face. Noah twisted, which served two purposes: he simultaneously dodged the punch and fiercely thrust his fist twice into DeWitt's abdomen.

Unpredictably, the Negotiator felt the ex-Pinkerton's clumsy punch, which had just passed the his cheek, become a pluck for his glasses.

Suddenly, the world was merely a mix of light, shadows and blurs.

Noah was still smiling though. His ears were functioning just fine, and he had very much enjoyed the sounds of his opponent's surprised grunt then pained huffs over the two vicious strikes that smashed into Booker's body.

oooooooooooooooooooo

oooooooooooooooooooo

_Was that worth it? _Booker wondered. He crushed Noah's glasses within his palm as he stumbled backward, gasping deeply. The first attack had smashed the ex-Pinkerton's lower left rib cage and DeWitt had no doubt at least one of his bones were partly if not fully fractured. The second punch was aimed slightly lower, jamming into the ex-soldier's abs and stealing his breath away.

The attacks had complimented each other nicely: one had temporarily made it difficult to breathe and the other made breathing _hurt_.

As Noah's arm was snapping forward to aim a blind jab toward DeWitt's solar plexus, the private investigator wisely chose to allow himself to sink to the ground. He needed to avoid any more of the Negotiator's brutal punches while he recovered his breath.

"Can't properly see you, Mr. DeWitt," Reed announced mirthfully, "but I can hear you gasping ... _Get up_."

Booker grunted when Noah reached down to grab at his vest with those gloved hands. With ridiculous strength, the Negotiator lifted the ex-Pinkerton and threw him into the nearby wall. DeWitt managed to both brace his body for impact mid-air and, with the support of the wall, land on his feet. A sharp, but temporary, pain emerge in his back.

The more significant issue remained the ex-soldier's ribcage, but he was finally managing a partial recovery from those debilitating punches. His ribs still hurt, regardless of whether he was motionless or breathing, but at least he felt like he could fight again.

Reed stood in the center of the room. He was in a semi-crouched boxer's stance this time. Those eyes were focused toward Booker's general direction, waiting. Smirking, of course.

"Gonna beat that smirk off your face," the ex-soldier growled as he moved toward Noah - this time with far more caution.

"Hurry on then."

Both men endured the disadvantages they incurred earlier in the fight with dignity. Noah was partially blind but patient, waiting for opportunities to make swift jabs that were sure to connect with the blur standing before him; DeWitt fought through his pain, managing to land some solid hooks into the Negotiator's torso. Still, Booker wished the searing pain in his ribs would disappear, even if only temporarily. The ex-soldier knew his attacks were lacking their usual sting.

It surprised DeWitt when Noah abandoned his boxer's stance. The large man, who was significantly faster than Booker had anticipated, suddenly charged forward and grabbed at the Ex-Pinkerton's neck and shoulder. Reed roughly kicked at one of DeWitt's legs while simultaneously swinging the ex-Soldier downward. Booker lost his footing and roughly smacked into the ground.

The investigator braced himself for the Negotiator's follow-up attacks: two kicks on the right side of the older man's ribs. DeWitt rolled three times, creating distance between himself and the powerful criminal before a third attack connected. The evasive maneuver brought the ex-Pinkerton close to his own dining table.

Booker stood, scowling. In the heat of the moment, he reached over to one of the beer bottles on the table and smashed the bottom of it, producing a jagged-edged weapon for himself. He froze immediately after the act though, wondering if he breached some sort of unwritten agreement that no weapons were allowed in this fight and that, as a consequence, all of Noah's subordinates were about to pull out their guns and shoot him. .

"Look at that. DeWitt's cheatin,' " Vincenzo snickered.

"No limitations were set for this match," Noah, surprisingly, argued on Booker's behalf, "besides," smiling, "I asked for a beast, not a knight. Why ... I think I'd be disappointed if he exhibited a sense of chivalry."

"You're a cocky bastard, Noah. And you're about to be a dead cocky bastard," Booker snarled.

The Negotiator beckoned DeWitt with his gloved hand before adopting a new boxing stance. This stance, with Noah's back foot heel lifted slightly, favored balance and mobility.

_Go for slices, not stabs, _the ex-Pinkerton told himself.

Again, Booker charged forward.

oooooooooooooooooooo

oooooooooooooooooooo

Fighting in a world of varying blurs was quite the disadvantage. That said, Noah's poor vision wasn't _entirely_ useless. For example, he could tell when Booker was about to swing his weapon based on the way his particular blur shifted.

Sounds, also, assisted Reed. Footsteps, breathing changes.

The Negotiator managed to dodge the first two attacks with a twist of the torso and a sidestep. DeWitt's third swing would make contact but it'd also leave the ex-soldier out of position. Yes, the glass' jagged edge had ripped into the fabric and flesh at Reed's bicep, but Noah managed to grab at the ex-Pinkerton's offending arm. He used his strength and weight-advantage to twist behind Booker and shove the ex-soldier into the wall - for it was a small apartment, and they were never too far off from a wall.

Reed used his massive frame to pin the temporarily stunned investigator, and secured his grip on that twisted, bottle-wielding arm. His own wound stung - slices from jagged-weapons tend to sting - but he had Booker right where he wanted him.

"I'm curious, Mr. DeWitt," as he clamped a hand on Booker's wrist, "did you believe me earlier when I told you I can easily snap a grown man's arm in half?"

The ex-soldier grunted. It was an unfortunate position - having his chest pinned against the wall by someone significantly larger than him. He felt Noah actively start to apply opposite pressures to his twisted elbow and wrist and he fully believed that the Negotiator was a handful of seconds from breaking his compromised forearm. Booker had few options left. He dropped the beer bottle and tensed up the muscles in his arm as fiercely as possible to resist the powerful criminal's efforts to break it. He, simultaneously, repositioned his leg and was about to lift his foot and slam it down on top of Reed's with all his strength before a woman's voice, angry and unyielding, shouted: "Cease this! Now! Violence in front of a lady is_ socially reprehensible_."

The sound of Elizabeth's voice managed to steal all of Booker's aggressions. Perhaps it had the same effect on Noah as well because the pressure that had been applied to his arm instantly stopped. They both recalled her words were a repetition of a claim Noah had made during his first intrusion into the ex-Pinkerton's home ...

Aside from DeWitt and Reed, who were still locked together on the far side of the room, each man present had the opportunity to look at the mysterious female. They wouldn't think of how suddenly and silently the woman made her appearance at the threshold of Booker's home; they'd only think she was incredibly beautiful.

Each man felt a quickening in their hearts. Even Ernest, who was a very happy, loyal husband.

"Pretty ... Pretty girl ..." Vincenzo murmured. Piero whistled. Karl said nothing but he certainly looked. Jacoby, as he observed the gorgeous woman, became disheartened. Ernest couldn't help but think she put additional effort into her appearance to please Noah. That elegant auburn dress hugged her curves perfectly ... combine it with the long string of golden pearls that hung provocatively from her neck and she truly looked like a prize to be coveted.

"Mr. Pelosi," Reed called out.

Piero aimed his pistol at DeWitt's head and pulled the hammer before informing the ex-Pinkerton: " 'Mr. Pelosi' is the Negotiator's way of saying 'Shoot this prick if he does anything stupid.' "

"Manners, Mr. Pelosi," Noah reminded as he released Booker's arm and took a step back, "a lady is present."

The ex-Pinkerton focused a glare at Piero. The street-thug was probably half his age, which made the fact that he was pointing a gun in the ex-soldier's face feel particularly insulting.

"I'm going to slowly spin around," Booker warned the potentially trigger-happy young-gun. As DeWitt turned away from the wall to view the scenario before him, he became irrationally upset when he realized Noah had pulled a small case from his trouser pockets and was currently removing a second pair of glasses from it ...

_He had a second pair of glasses the entire damn fight. _ It took every inch of DeWitt's willpower not to charge forward and launch a punch into the smug bastard's nose.

Noah placed the spare set of oculars on his face, restoring his vision. The sight of the thoroughly annoyed ex-soldier's expression forced a smirk and a wink out of the cocky criminal.

Then both men turned toward the entryway to gaze upon Elizabeth.

DeWitt always thought of her as stunning, but the unfamiliar dress with the addition of a few lovely accessories awoke his suspicion. It suddenly clicked.

_He's here for her ... _

oooooooooooooooooooo

oooooooooooooooooooo

Elizabeth stepped forward, ignoring the collective leering she now received from the occupants of the apartment. She had been tempted to run to Booker and immediately attempt to console and calm him, but a man of impressive stature stood in the way ...

She moved in front of the Negotiator and focused her blue eyes on him: no hat or suit jacket, blonde hair mussed, sleeves rolled-up, a lightly bloodied dress-shirt, but he retained those leather gloves - he always did in public. It was the sight of Noah when he wanted to have _fun_ ... his ridiculous version of it, anyway.

In a way he looked ... powerful. Even considering the blood.

_I can do this_, she reminded herself.

Reed gladly returned her look-over. To see her fresh and gracefully dressed was quite a shift from the half-naked, seductively unkempt state he had discovered her in during their initial meeting. Noah decided the choice between mesmerizing elegance or sumptuous vulnerability was a difficult one.

The viewing allowed the tall man to spy a flaw he hadn't noticed before: the thimble on her right pinky. Had it been concealed behind the infant she had been holding during their first encounter? Or was this ... crime, a recent occurrence? He decided not to mention it before their spectators. Instead, with a slight bow of his head, he elected to compliment her: "you're exactly as enchanting as my memory promised."

"Was all this necessary, Mr. Reed?" Elizabeth asked finally, "I hadn't anticipated finding unfamiliar men and the Negotiator bullying my lover in his home."

"I thought Mr. DeWitt could use some company during our absence. -"

"-Don't do this," Booker's interruption was accompanied by a pained look. Just the sight of her _speaking_ to Reed was sickening him, and the thought that he might end up _touching_ her was torturing him.

Elizabeth found her eyes flashing toward DeWitt sympathetically. A pensive pause before she looked back to Noah.

"I'd like to speak with Booker," she informed, attempting to make it sound like a respectful request rather than a demand.

Reed tilted his head to the side as he mused it over.

"There's nothing he can say that will change my intentions for the evening," Elizabeth promised insistently.

"As you wish," the blonde man relented, stepping aside.

Elizabeth charged at Booker and instantly moved into his awaiting arms. She always loved his arms - always felt safe within them. Even now she did, with the Negotiator watching them and Piero pointing his pistol at the ex-Pinkerton's head. With marginal assistance from Elizabeth, there was no doubting Booker could and would kill every man in this room. It was nearly a shame she wanted to try to pull Booker away from that sort of violence, a shame that she wanted her lover to see her as normal.

Somehow, they shared an earnest conversation, despite the presence of multiple criminals.

"Don't do this ... " DeWitt repeated.

"Did he hurt you?" she asked softly, grabbing at the fabric along the backside of his vest, leaning into him.

"No," the ex-soldier lied, and he kept it to himself that she was pressing into his cracked rib, "I can handle this. I want you to take Anna and go stay with one of the neighbors for the night ... "

Elizabeth sighed before pulling back slightly to give the ex-Pinkerton an incredulous look.

"Reed can have you killed at a whim right now - "

"-Listen," Booker insisted sorrowfully, hands squeezing her hips, "I'd rather die than let him take you."

The words pierced her. Against her will, those blue eyes went moist.

"You imbecile! You've given up," she murmured, smacking a dainty palm against his broad chest, "is that what you want? To go down swinging? That isn't fair to Anna. - "

"-I can't let you walk away from me again," DeWitt revealed, tone bleak, "watching you disappear last night almost killed me. You really think I can ... let you leave with that colossal bastard?"

Several feet away, Noah smirked and set his hands on his own hips. The Negotiator wondered if all the lessons and training in the world could teach the stubborn dog proper respect. He silently swore if DeWitt earned himself another lesson that the next one _would_ involve mutilation instead of threats merely meant to intimidate.

" ... He won't hurt me - "

"- How can you possibly know that for sure?" Booker nearly shouted the question, "you really think it'd be the first time a woman ventured off with a man thinking she was safe-"

"- Booker! He won't hurt me, and you _need_ to trust me," Elizabeth demanded firmly, staring straight into Booker's somber eyes. They were the green of summer ... which the thoughtful female felt didn't suit him at all. Maybe sometime in the future, with patience and affection and without debts and fear, DeWitt would be a more natural fit for such a color.

"I can't let you ... "

Elizabeth grabbed Booker's hands before telling him: "l'm going to fix this, but I can't do that without ... without bargaining with Mr. Reed. I'll be ok, I'll come back to you ... and, I swear, I _swear_ ... we'll be one step closer to living a peaceful, debt-free life."

At this point she leaned forward to press the softest of kisses onto DeWitt's lips, causing her lover to sigh deeply.

"I - "

"-Shh, Booker," she implored, keeping her lips close to his, "just think about it. You, Anna and me. No more debt."

"Yah ... it sounds perfect," the ex-Pinkerton admitted quietly.

" ... Now, keep yourself calm, please," Elizabeth whispered, "and promise you won't kill anyone while I'm gone."

Booker nodded. He wasn't sure if he'd keep that promise, but he nodded anyway.

oooooooooooooooooooo

oooooooooooooooooooo

Elizabeth was about to join the Negotiator's side before she turned to look at Vincenzo Abruzzo.

"Come with us, Vincenzo," Elizabeth called to him, "I require two men to achieve satisfaction."

Vincenzo erupted into a full grin, not caring that he was showing off multiple missing teeth.

Booker and Ernest's hearts nearly stopped. Noah expertly cloaked his suspicion with a chuckle. Piero looked offended ... thinking correctly that he was a far more attractive option than Vincenzo. So were Karl and Ernest, for that matter.

Booker calmed himself, thinking she must have some sort of ... plan. Maybe she wanted to split the criminals?

Vincenzo glanced at the Negotiator, waiting for the man's approval or denial ...

"As the lady says, Mr. Abruzzo," Noah bade.

"Yeh won't be disappointed, miss!" Vincenzo vowed excitedly, stepping toward the door to exit with them.

"Mind escorting her outside for me, Vincenzo?" Reed requested smoothly.

"Yes, sir," Vincenzo answered happily.

Elizabeth's eyes widened as she looked toward Noah. She didn't want to leave the violent criminal behind with Booker ...

The Negotiator smirked at her concerned expression before promising to her: "I intend no further harm to Mr. DeWitt this day."

Reluctantly, the beautiful female left the apartment at Vincenzo's side.

"Mind if I use your restroom, Mr. DeWitt?" Noah inquired, "I need to clean this little scratch you gave me."

Booker didn't bother to respond.

oooooooooooooooooooo

oooooooooooooooooooo

At Noah's beckon, Ernest joined Reed within the bathroom. The room felt tiny and the Negotiator's bulky body dwarfed it even further.

The tall man opened Booker's medicine cabinet and instantly huffed at its contents: dental cream and aspirin powder. It was missing a decent number of common household supplies, including the standard medical supplies the wounded criminal had been searching for.

"At least he has dental cream," Noah commented dryly, "fetch me a glass of water and my personal belongings."

Jacoby left to do the given task. Reed grabbed his bloodied dress sleeve and pulled on it until it tore off. He examined the four-inch long wound - he estimated it was no more than half-an-inch deep but he would have prefered a smooth cut over tattered skin.

He was washing out the cut when Ernest returned. Noah immediately asked: "you know what's curious?"

"The lady's invitation of Vincenzo," Jacoby responded quickly as he set aside the glass of water and Noah's belongings, "very suspicious."

"You know what else is curious?"

"What, sir?" Ernest asked quietly.

"That she knew Vincenzo's name," and Noah embraced an accusing tone as he said this.

Jacoby paused. He hadn't even noticed, and he usually picked up on those sort of details. Perhaps the emotional conflict he felt over Booker and his mysterious lover's heartfelt conversation stole his focus.

"Mr. Reed, I've already admitted to you that I spoke to her last night ... but all, and I insist all, I told her was that she needn't fear you. I didn't give her any details of our syndicate."

Noah had been watching Ernest speak through the mirror. After a moment, he decided he believed the moustached man's words. Reed switched off the faucet before turning toward Jacoby to present the shorter criminal his detached shirt-sleeve.

"As tightly as you can manage," the Negotiator instructed. Ernest took the fabric and began to wrap it around the muscular man's sliced bicep.

_Did you truly have to shine the lantern on me, Noah? Ask me to scalp a man you simply intended to scare ..._ ? Jacoby asked silently. He didn't have the courage to verbalize the question.

"Mr. DeWitt put forth a noble effort, didn't he?" Noah admitted as he watched Ernest wrap his arm, that trademark smirk returning, "I caught him off-guard early but he fought well through his pain ... - My, if I'm not careful I might develop a modicum of respect for the man."

"I haven't seen your blood in years," Jacoby commented as he tied the makeshift bandage, "perhaps a modicum of respect would be wise."

"I was expecting absolute victory even after he employed my significant visual disadvantage," Noah revealed with a laugh, flexing his arm to test the stability of the dressing, "I now lament that fighting blind reduced the potency of my strikes."

"Your arrogance is unquantifiable," Ernest muttered as he watched the Negotiator slip on that suit jacket, concealing the bandaged arm and torn dress-shirt, "would you still be humored if he managed to slice a major artery?"

Reed ignored the question.

"I don't think I met the White Injun today," Noah stated before plucking that aspirin powder out of the cabinet, "but the beast is certainly inside DeWitt. Waiting."

Jacoby remained silent as he watched his boss tap some aspirin into the glass of water. He'd like to think Booker was simply a father - a lover - that wanted to be left alone ... but Reed, historically-speaking, was skilled at sensing violence in others. Or perhaps incredibly apt at _inspiring_ violence from others.

"DeWitt's woman ... she stole my breath," Noah admitted as he replaced his hat on his head and snatched his umbrella, "perhaps the only woman in this city that could eclipse my interest in the infamous White Injun."

oooooooooooooooooooo

oooooooooooooooooooo

Piero was still pointing that gun at DeWitt's head, and the ex-Pinkerton found himself imagining shoving the young thug's face into the wall. Repeatedly.

What an utterly miserable day: threats, taunts, a hangover, a brawl accompanied by a cracked rib, Elizabeth's impending sacrifice and his daughter ... was still crying.

When the Negotiator reentered the room with Ernest lagging behind him, Booker refocused his silent rage toward the tall bastard.

"How's the arm?" DeWitt asked mockingly.

"Better off than your ribcage, I suspect," Noah returned with a wink, stepping before the ex-soldier and setting the glass of aspirin-water on the table, "this is for you."

Booker glowered at the man.

Reed smiled before stating: "I had a lengthy dialogue prepared listing all the reasons you should turn your escort mission to Buffalo into a permanent relocation for you and little Anna. But, after listening to that ... passionate conversation you shared with that striking woman of yours, I realize you'd never leave her behind. I certainly can't fault you for this; I wouldn't either."

"If you touch her, I'll kill you," the ex-soldier vowed gravely.

"I simply need to adjust my strategy," Noah explained mockingly, "I'll convince _her_ to leave _you _behind."

DeWitt's jaw tightened. If it weren't for Piero's gun, Anna's exhausted cries and Elizabeth's sincere plea, he would have launched forward and initiated another tussle with the smug criminal.

Instead, Booker spat at Noah. Reed managed to twist his face away, causing the saliva to land on his neck.

Ernest grimaced. Piero tensed, wondering if the command for the ex-Pinkerton's execution was about to be ordered. Karl observed silently. The Negotiator emitted a small laugh, turning back toward the irate ex-soldier.

"I'm going to have your woman lick that off of me," Noah taunted.

Booker's hands clenched into fists.

oooooooooooooooooooo

oooooooooooooooooooo

Elizabeth and Vincenzo stood within the concaved threshold of Booker's apartment building, avoiding the steady rain.

The anxious female watched all that unfolded within DeWitt's apartment: Ernest obediently bandaging the Negotiator in the bathroom, Noah's suspicions, the words shared between the two enemies.

Elizabeth smiled to herself when Booker spat at the Negotiator, then flushed slightly at Noah's subsequent taunt. The vulgar promise turned out to be a mere jest - as soon as Reed stepped out of DeWitt's apartment he pulled out a handkerchief to remove the offense from his neck.

_I can do this,_ she told herself as she watched Noah's approach,_ I can play the role. _

"So, uhh ... yer pretty fair, yeh know," Vincenzo complimented awkwardly. He had been giving her odd smirks ever since they had stepped out together. It seemed Vincenzo was ... overly excited over Elizabeth's invitation.

The pale girl glared at him, hoping it'd dissuade him from speaking any further. She thought of the unfortunate homeless girl that the despicable man had excessively mutilated a few evenings ago.

"If ya lift up the skirt a' yer dress, I can give ya a taste a' whats to come," Vincenzo promised with another grin, stepping toward her.

"Don't. Touch me," Elizabeth hissed.

"Jus' the tip! I swear!"

The irritated woman couldn't prevent disgust from exploding on her pretty face.

At this moment, the Negotiator opened the apartment building door and joined them outside. He couldn't help but smirk at Elizabeth's expression.

"Are you upsetting her, Vincenzo?" Noah questioned.

"Uh," as Vincenzo stepped back from her, disappointed, "no, sir."

"Excellent," the Negotiator responded, "go wait for us at my car. I'd like a minute alone with the lady."

The violent underling muttered something unintelligible before walking off, hurriedly venturing through the rain and slickened streets.

"He's nearly as charming as you are," Elizabeth quipped, watching Vincenzo's departure.

"I'd like to remind you that it wasn't I who extended him an invitation," Reed teased before holding out his gloved palm before her, "now, may I have your right hand?"

Elizabeth cloaked her inward emotions and examined the Negotiator's calm look that possessed the faintest trace of a smile. She placed her hand into Noah's palm, and watched the tall man lean down to observe the thimble on her marred finger.

"Who did this to you? Was it a man of this city?" Reed inquired as his eyes shifted back toward that gorgeous blue gaze, "someone from DeWitt's evolving list of enemies, perhaps?"

The conversation's focus distressed Elizabeth. She made no response, but was determined not to look away from Noah's slate-colored stare.

"Hm. Should this offender still live," Reed held her eyes as he spoke and gently squeezed her pale hand, "should he _dare_ walk the streets of my city ... I'll kill him for you."

"I imagine you would," Elizabeth murmured, glancing at their entwined hands pensively. She mused over why she kept attracting men who were too willing, too eager to commit violence on her behalf.

Thoughts of Columbia awoke within her.

_Booker had been such a powerful man. She remembered some of his more brutal moments - one time he had literally leapt from a skyline and drove his skyhook through an unaware guard's skull ... DeWitt might as well have tucked a grenade within the man's head; blood, bone and brain matter had splattered everywhere. _

Reed observed her distracted look before running his thumb across her knuckles. The touch brought the beautiful female back from her mental departure.

"So," Elizabeth's expression hardened as her focus returned and she tugged her hand from the criminal's hold, "is the offer for murder the 'Noah Reed' version of kindness?"

The Negotiator produced an amused snort, straightening his posture.

"I was told your name would be my reward for accepting today's invitation," Noah subtly requested.

"Soon, you shall have it," Elizabeth responded evenly.

The Negotiator smirked. He lifted his umbrella, opened it, and offered his arm to the beautiful woman.

"Shall we begin the show, then? I'm truly curious over what role you intend to play," Reed remarked sportively - an admission that he was aware she had some sort of plan.

After a tiny moment of hesitation, Elizabeth hooked arms with the confident criminal. Together, they stepped out into the streets to begin their journey to Noah's car. The Negotiator adopted a languid pace so his petite companion could easily keep in stride with him, and he purposely tipped his umbrella to keep the rain from the female's uncovered head.

"Would you like to choose the setting for this afternoon's entertainment?" Reed offered. He was beginning to suspect this rendezvous would be fun, even without the exchange of physical pleasure.

Elizabeth paused for a moment before providing a suggestion that deeply amused the Negotiator: "A location where one's screams will not be heard."

Noah chuckled deeply.

"I know a few of such places."

oooooooooooooooooooo

oooooooooooooooooooo

DeWitt was sitting at his kitchen table, now. He was staring at the aspirin-water Reed had prepared for him, his ribs were begging him to grab the glass, but he decided drinking it in front of the Negotiator's men would feel like a personal failure.

He tried not to think about the Negotiator and instead struggled to focus on Elizabeth's promise: _I swear ... we'll be one step closer to living a peaceful, debt-free life._

It took DeWitt a few minutes to realize that Piero was sheathing and drawing out his pistol over and over, aiming it at him and saying 'bang' each time.

"What the hell, kid?" he growled.

"Mr. Reed said you were a famous marksman at one time ... so, what you think? You think you're faster than me?" Piero asked before demonstrating, again, how quickly he can draw a gun.

"Not sure. Go grab my gun. We could have a duel and find our answer," Booker challenged.

Piero snorted, sheathing and drawing his pistol _again_ ...

"Stop antagonizing him," Ernest muttered nastily from the corner of the room, "he hasn't even missed a payment and we've invaded his home, threatened him, insulted him, assaulted him and claimed ... "

Jacoby was going to say 'his woman' but decided not to finish that last part when Dewitt's eyes snapped toward his direction.

"Christ, you guys are boring," Piero complained, sheathing his gun but maintaining a vigilant watch of the ex-Pinkerton, "wish they left Vincenzo behind." Yes, Piero decided he missed Vincenzo: Karl, who stood behind DeWitt's chair, was essentially a mute and Ernest was always moping these days.

DeWitt continued to watch Jacoby for a minute before making an accusation: "You knew last night he was going to come for her." He had remembered Elizabeth mentioning something about a 'message' for the Negotiator.

Ernest tugged at his mustache, frustrated. On one hand, he wanted to respond with a sympathetic explanation. On the other hand, he was speaking in front of two spectators loyal to Reed ... and he felt he had already accumulated enough negative attention on Booker's behalf.

"Perhaps you need to adopt a new focus, Mr. DeWitt," Jacoby suggested, "focus on surviving to see your daughter's first birthday."

Booker sneered wordlessly.

"I can see why you're so frustrated, DeWitt," Piero stated with a smirk, "your lady's quite a vamp. Mind if we trade places for a day? A day that doesn't fall on your collection night, preferably ... "

The words caused Booker's mind to become polluted with incriminating fantasies. He wondered if Elizabeth and Noah's bodies complimented each other. He wondered if Elizabeth would moan for a man like Noah. He wondered if Noah would hurt Elizabeth. He wondered if they'd share kisses and whispers.

_What the hell am I doing? I gotta go find her. I can't ... let that absurd bastard have her._

"Christ, I could use a drink," DeWitt sighed, rubbing his temple before aiming a glance at Piero, "have you ever shot a Winchester?"

"Naw, not yet. Only pistols and revolvers," Piero responded, finding himself excited at the prospect of shooting a rifle.

"You grab me a beer and I'll let you take a couple of shots into the air with mine."

"Truly?! You have a Winchester in here? What model?"

"1876," the ex-soldier answered, "used it when I was in the Calvary."

"Piero ... " Ernest called out anxiously as he listened to their conversation.

"Yah, Mr. DeWitt, I'll grab ya a beer," Piero consented as he began to walk toward the freezer box.

Piero relinquishing his focus was all that Booker needed. He leapt forward as the thug attempted to walk by him, roughly grabbing at the smaller man's head and shoulders.

"Hey!" Piero cried out. Karl moved to aid his co-criminal but he was too late. The ex-Pinkerton slammed the young-gun's head down into the dining table twice. Piero was a gunman, not a warrior, and the violent act immediately caused his body to slump limply.

Ernest drew his gun as he cursed under his breath, watching with conflicted emotions as Karl and DeWitt began to grapple with each other. They were similar sizes - both slightly taller than six feet, each fairly muscular, and neither had a clear weight-advantage. Karl was a perceptive criminal, and knew from watching Booker's earlier tussle with Noah that the ex-Pinkerton ribs were compromised. Karl attempted two hooks into those ribs as the ex-soldier slammed his fist into his opponents thick jaw. Both men grunted.

"Booker, stop this!" Ernest insisted as the two men fought, "there's five million people in this city and none of us know where Reed took her! How will you find her? Where will you go? You've no choice but to wait this out!"

DeWitt, even though Karl's attacks managed to exacerbate the pain of his ribs, soon managed to get the upper-hand over the tough criminal. He started wailing on his opponent's face over and over until Karl stumbled then finally fell.

Booker aimed a kick at Karl's gut before he turned toward the stunned Jacoby with a cold expression. Ernest squeezed his gun but wouldn't dare point it at the ex-soldier.

_Reed was right ... he's a beast._

After a moment, the ex-Pinkerton stepped quickly into his bedroom. When he returned to the kitchen, he had his colt pistol. He pointed it at the unconscious Piero's head.

"_Don't_, Booker!" Ernest insisted, stepping forward, "don't! You can't ... - imagine how the lady would feel if she made this bargain only to find out you spoiled it by killing Reed's men."

"Ernest," Booker growled, "I have to find her. I _have_ to. And I'm not leaving these men in my goddamn apartment with my daughter."

"We'll leave, we will. We'll be gone long before your return," Jacoby promised, "and ... I'd sooner shoot them myself then let them touch your daughter."

DeWitt grunted with frustration, sparing Ernest another glare. But then he thought of Elizabeth ...

_"Promise you won't kill anyone while I'm gone..."_

"Reed ... he always takes his whores to Hotel Astor," Jacoby offered desperately, "I can't say I'm certain they're there, but it's the only suggestion I have."

Booker snatched the aspirin-water and chugged it. Then he slid his gun into the rim of his pants and began to swiftly step out. As he walked by Ernest, he muttered: "Eleven dollars just bought three men's lives."

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Reed chose an ominous location - an abandoned pier with three-foot tall fencing along its edges. The elements remained unkind; it was still cold, still raining. The horizon was a standoff between the churning blue sea and the sky's sprawling clouds. They were, indeed, alone ... too far from anyone to be heard.

As they stepped onto the wooden pier, Vincenzo, who lagged behind Noah and Elizabeth, revealed his frustration: "This don' seem like a good place to stick our pricks in 'er."

"Vincenzo," Elizabeth called out, "wait here. I want to speak with the Negotiator alone."

"But I wanna - "

"- Do as she says," the Negotiator commanded coolly.

" ... yes, sir," Vincenzo grunted.

Noah smirked when he realized he was nearly glad for the beautiful female's impending betrayal. It would be revolting to carry out any sort of sexual endeavor that involved Vincenzo ... even for a prize as gorgeous as the woman holding his arm. Still, one had to wonder what she did have to gain from inviting the both of them to a remote location. Did this intriguing girl truly think she could kill two men apt at violence? Or, perhaps she simply wanted to remove the two greatest threats to Booker from the ex-Pinkerton's apartment ... Reed found himself wondering if leaving Piero and Karl with DeWitt and the recently unreliable Ernest would lead to any unforeseen losses. Booker certainly had an excellent reputation in terms of armed combat and actually proved to be a more-than-respectable brawler.

When they reached the end of the pier, Elizabeth muttered: "Why did you hire that man?"

"Vincenzo's far from being an exceptional employee, but he has his uses. He's also loyal," Noah answered before presenting the handle of his umbrella to the blue-eyed woman, "mind holding this for a moment?"

Without thinking, Elizabeth accepted the umbrella. Reed swiftly turned toward her, gripped her hips and hoisted her into the air to precariously perch her upon the pier's wooden fence. Before the surprised female could verbalize a response, the Negotiator leaned downward to press a sensual kiss against her lips. The broad-shouldered man's intimate proximity temporarily overwhelmed her. Lacking focus, her free palm ended up on the that muscular chest, and for a brief, brief moment, Elizabeth forgot to be repulsed by the criminal's touch. Noah's hold on her was firm, perhaps to prevent her from falling into the undoubtedly cold harbor bay waters behind her, perhaps for other reasons, but it made pulling back from the bold act impossible so she instead opted to turn her face away from the kiss. She felt the Negotiator's humored sigh touch her cheek.

"Forgive me; I was suddenly overwrought by thoughts of your lips," Noah whispered in her ear, "perhaps you should unveil your scheme before I take any further liberties."

"Vincenzo isn't loyal," Elizabeth responded, deciding it was, indeed, time to get down to business, "allow me to demonstrate."

As she called out loudly to Vincenzo, Reed pulled back from her slightly to gift her a quizzical look. Amused and quizzical.

"Is it my turn?" Vincenzo called back.

"Remember when Mr. Reed hired you and he presented to you that clever little metaphor about cannibalism you didn't fully understand?"

Both men stared at her silently, each wondering how she obtained such information.

"He gave you a thorough explanation as to why the blood of women and children must not be spilt," Elizabeth went on as she watched Vincenzo, who was positioned about thirty feet behind Reed, remove his gun from his holster, "so, tell me, did you forget this limitation when you butchered that defenseless woman four eves ago?"

Elizabeth and the two criminals understood fully that a line had been crossed. Vicenzo's betrayal had been revealed. There was no fixing the situation; someone was certainly about to die. It was amusing to Noah - an hour ago he had been anticipating a carnal exchange, after all, but now the scene promised blood. Most likely his own, considering Vincenzo's positional advantage the beautiful girl ensured he'd have when she insisted he stay behind them. The Negotiator smirked at the stunning woman in his grip before speaking: "He drew his gun, didn't he?"

"Indeed he did," Elizabeth responded with a mocking smile.

"I ain' bein' fed to no fuckin' dog, Reed," Vincenzo snarled loudly, pulling the hammer of his gun and aiming it at the Negotiator.

"Having my own man kill me. Very clever," Noah quietly complimented the _incredible_ female, "you never fail to impress."

Elizabeth playfully pat the tall man's chest with her free hand before lowering it, and rolled the handle of Reed's umbrella with the other, twirling it.

"Raise yer hands an' turn aroun' slowly," Vincenzo demanded loudly, so he was heard clearly over the rain.

"Mm. Are you stable?" Noah asked her, not about to release those hips just to have the beauty fall into New York's harbor bay.

Elizabeth nodded as Vincenzo impatiently barked: "Turn yerself aroun' _now_."

The Negotiator released his hold on the dainty woman and lifted his hands as he slowly turned to face the gun-wielding criminal. He shifted so that he completely blocked Elizabeth from Vincenzo's line-of-sight, and it reminded the observant female of the first time they met - when Reed had purposely stepped between herself and Booker's pistol after the ex-Pinkerton discovered the Negotiator's intrusion in Anna's nursery.

"What now, Mr. Abruzzo?" Reed taunted loudly.

"What's yer address? I know yeh got piles of money hidden there," Vincenzo announced, "an' I figur' I'm now unemployed so I'm gonna need all that cash."

"Oh," Noah paused to chuckle, "you're _funny_, Vincenzo."

The provoking words were the catalyst - Noah, to his credit, was faster than a man his size should be and drew his gun at an impressive speed, but Vincenzo's gun was already drawn and pointed at the Negotiator. The shot was accurate - the bullet would have pierced Reed's chest - but a truly unbelievable intervention denied Vincenzo his victory over New York city's most notorious criminal.

Three tears were opened simultaneously. One swallowed Vincenzo's bullet, the other two flashed over the ugly brute's wrists.

The Negotiator, in the drama of the moment, was about to instinctively shoot at his ex-subordinate before noticing the curious flashes of light that seemed fastened onto Vincenzo's wrists like cufflinks. There was also a remarkable lack of hands where those lights had emerged. The sight froze Noah's movements.

"Where'd my gun ... - What ... what's this?! Where's my hands?" Vincenzo cried out, wide-eyed, staring at the stumps of his arms where his hands should be. It was terribly disconcerting. He couldn't feel the gun in his grip anymore ... but he could still_ feel_ and _move_ his hands. Were they invisible somehow?

"I just saved you, Mr. Reed," Elizabeth spoke casually from behind the stunned sadist, "I suppose that makes you _indebted_ to me. How fortunate that you're a man of significant wealth."

If Noah hadn't been so entranced by the sight of Vincenzo's missing extremities, he would have laughed at her usage of the term 'indebted.' Instead, he lowered his gun and murmured: "How truly ... fascinating."

Elizabeth opened a tear to bring a sturdy, grayed-out stool into this world, just behind the tall criminal. She stood on this stool, which elevated her enough so that she may whisper in the Negotiator's ear: "I can see the past, Mr. Reed, and I spent many, many hours looking into _yours_. "

Noah didn't respond. The sight of Vincenzo waving his stumps around as he started to fearfully shout was starting to invoke the Negotiator's dark sense of humor ...

"Hush, Vincenzo," the tall criminal scolded with a smirk, "you're embarrassing yourself."

"Turn around, Mr. Reed," Elizabeth insisted, tapping his shoulder,"I need you to focus."

Noah obeyed, turning to face her and briefly wondering where the hell she acquired a stool from ... The woman was full of miracles.

"You've my attention," the faintly-smiling criminal declared.

"I've seen your past, Mr. Reed," she declared, exuding confidence, "your mother's situation made you a sad, frustrated adolescent. Still, you at least had a soul at the time, before Giovanni found you. Your black-hearted tutor was absolutely fascinated by you ... truly delighted to find an impressionable, fatherless, _freakish_ eleven year-old that possessed a man's body and strength. He saw the potential to make a monster out of you and you... you exceeded all his expectations. -"

"-there's no need to recount any further," Noah interrupted, setting a hand on his own hip, "I believe you can view the past. Astonishing, truly. What other wonderous powers do you possess? You can steal space, summon objects, observe the past ... is there more? Can you hear my thoughts? Can you see men's destinies?"

Elizabeth didn't get a chance to respond - Vincenzo ran to them and began desperately screeching: "Where's my hands, yeh bitch?! They ... I can still feel em ... They're somewheres ... wet and chilly. Give em back!"

Noah found his curiosity overwhelming when the frantic criminal appeared beside him. He gripped Vincenzo's right arm to examine the circle of light at his wrist.

The fearless female glared at Vincenzo. One would think the disgusting criminal would show a little respect. She pointed upward, prompting both men to look. There were the hands, trapped about sixty feet high in the sky. Vincenzo gasped out and wiggled his fingers, proving to himself they were indeed _his_ hands.

"Insanity," Reed murmured, "utter insanity."

"Your hands will never harm another woman," Elizabeth vowed severely.

"No! Stop!" Vincenzo cried out.

Elizabeth closed the twin tears, severing Vincenzo's hands from his arms. As rivulets of blood began to erupt from the screaming criminal's wrists, as the descent of dismembered hands from the sky left Noah spellbound, she leaned forward to whisper into the tall man's ear: "I have plans for you, Mr. Negotiator. My _name ..._ is Elizabeth," and this is when the bloodied hands smacked into the wooden pier, "and you will learn to _fear it_."

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**Author's Note: **I really appreciate/survive-on reviews. I'm a very slow writer(it literally took roughly sixteen hours to write the fight scene and it isn't even that long) so encouraging words always helps and thoughtful critiques nurture stronger writers.

Next chapter: Elizabeth continues to prove she's a force to be reckoned with, and both Booker and Noah are too cocky for their own good. Stay tuned!

This was actually going to turn out to be an omni-chapter(I really wanted to get a sex scene into this one but too much was happening) before I decided to break it up and put some already written scenes into the next chapter. I have a really tough academic week coming up so I'm not sure when I'll be able to put out chapter seven.

**Shout-outs for my repeat reviews(I lost Paul Perkins ... NOOOOO):**

**Incidental Vegan Cannibal: **Hallo! Repeat reviews are much appreciated! Glad you enjoyed the last chapter. I want you to know I took your criticisms to heart. Sometimes it's tough for me to write long Elizabeth-centric scenes because all she has is her first name and I feel like it's repetitive. With Booker it's not bad because I can call him: Booker, Dewitt, ex-soldier, ex-pinkerton and people know who I'm talking about. With Noah I can go Noah, Reed, Negotiator, criminal. For Elizabeth my option is ... Elizabeth - cause I don't consider her a Comstock and calling her DeWitt would be confusing and, in my mind, incorrect. This all said, I'd rather be repetitive than incoherent, and I tried very hard in this chapter to learn from the awesome/sound advice you've given me. I realize that I have a solid number of original characters and using constant euphemisms/descriptors probably makes the story occasionally unreadable lol.

As far as the scalping: Noah wasn't actually going to have Ernest go through with it, but people have survived it! I cant share links in my story but a quick search of "Robert McGee" shows you a pretty neat picture of a survivor.

**Pelican182: **Thanks for the comment! It's really cool/encouraging to see someone who reviewed a previous chapter come back. Hope you liked the fightscene.

**Mr. Brown: **Glad you liked the chapter! I love hearing from ya. Stefano's a really cool character to write and I'm a little sad I didn't get the chance to fit in the Stefano and Noah Whore Rescue of 1912 yet(it may come back as a flashback because in my mind its a funny, awesome scene). I was actually super proud of chapter 5 so it made me a little sad that I lost reviewers(drat!), but my repeat reviewers always save the day! I really hope chapter 6 doesn't let ya down. I was actually going to be a jerk and have Elizabeth step in before the Booker/Noah fight even started ... but then I realized I hyped up the fight a little too much not to let anything happen. Ultimately this part of the story arch ended up far longer(and better) with the inclusion of the fight! Thank you so much, my muse, for your continued support. :D

**Shtoops: **You've totally touched upon my biggest issue with Bioshock Infinite: Comstock. He didn't feel fully fleshed out to me at all(in a way I think they were more concerned with the shock value of their ending then making him a believable character). If a simple baptism makes you ultra-racist, self-obsessed and super-violent, then mine was apparently a failure. I believe strong characters push stories(perhaps I care too much about this cause I may be overly developing my OC's to the point where people are losing interest in the story). Comstock felt lacking and no where near as cool as Fontaine or Andrew Ryan from the original game.

Booker vs. Noah is interesting. Noah's got a significant physical advantage on Booker and also has literally spent years training for close-counters brawling(whereas a lot of Booker's training was in marksmanship and for larger-scale combat situations). I purposely made fist-fighting Noah's specialty(just to give my ultraviolent/ultra-amazing hero(Booker) a worthy foe that could conceivably kill him ... (I'd get bored watching Superman beat up on Rita Repulsa's putty patrol)) but Booker is gonna get a lot of opportunity to showoff his skills and outshine Noah in terms of violence in future chapters.

As far as Columbia and the Luctece siblings ... _Shhhhhhhhhhhh!_

And, well this is a spoiler but I'll give it to ya anyway, angry Booker/eliz sex coming _soon_!

Finally: Oh, Mr. Twain. You never disappoint.

Another finally: _Thank you!_


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: ** For people that want the angry sex, skip to the last scene!

Also, I have a really cool _**update to my original character list: character pictures**_! Lillian is effing hot and Ernest's mustache is divine! Check it out if you wanna see my mental images of various To Belong characters or just want a refresher:

tobelongfic . livejournal . com

Take out the spaces!

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The afternoon rainfall had transformed into a sparse drizzle.

Elizabeth, still on her stool, still leaning close to the tall criminal's shoulder, watched Noah's face. He was partially turned away from her, staring down at Vincenzo's fallen hands with a nearly juvenile sense of wonderment - one akin to a child receiving gifts from Saint Nicolas. Though perhaps there was a touch of wickedness you wouldn't expect to see from a child.

Vincenzo was babbling in a painfilled voice: "God ... no! No! I ... I ... " The wounded man had fallen to his knees, holding the bloody stumps of his arms against his own chest as though he were trying to cradle himself.

Once the novelty of Vincenzo's spectacular mutilation began to dwindle, Noah altered his mental focus toward the magnificent female who was seductively hovering a matter of inches from his ear. She was a _threat_. An absurdly bewitching and dangerous threat. Realizations emerged and many, many questions plagued him.

_Is it even possible to fully unveil you, Elizabeth? _The Negotiator mused. It had took him months simply to learn her name ... and he only had that information because she chose to share it. Perhaps he'd never have any answers unless he found a tactful way of extracting them from her.

"Noah?" the beautiful, fascinating woman _whispered,_ and hearing his own name called out in such a hushed tone at a nearly intimate proximity altered her presence from distracting to maddening. Reed turned his face toward her, fantasizing stealing another kiss ... and perhaps he would have, if he didn't spy mischief in her eyes.

"You're taunting me," Noah accused, smirking slightly. He was quite familiar with this game: provoke your victim until they make a damning decision. Reed suspected making a second claim of her lips would prompt a very swift, perhaps even fatal, retaliation.

Elizabeth smiled unkindly, lifting her free hand to pat his shoulder.

"I'm finished with Vincenzo," she announced insidiously.

Noah realized this was a subtle command. The clever girl was purposely attempting to demonstrate control over him ... perhaps to gauge his level of obedience.

Reed would play along. For now.

"Well, Vincenzo," the Negotiator smiled, aiming his gun at the sniveling, kneeling criminal, "my goddess demands death."

Vincenzo looked up at Elizabeth and Noah, displaying a pained, frustrated expression: "Fuck yeh both! ... See yeh ... _fuckers_ in hell!"

The use of the term 'goddess' forced an unseen pause out of Elizabeth, and her smile vanished. She recalled a version of herself capable of soullessly destroying this ridiculous, schizophrenic city. She was swarmed with the memories of the events which could have led to the birth of a dark goddess: the mistress of flame. A birth that resulted from the loss of her hero, Booker ... from the hours of manipulative 'therapy' she endured from Comstock's psychologists, from the pain of the shock treatments that Comstock forced upon her. The version of her that would have become the prophet's destructive successor had been _strong_, had resisted Comstock's influence for months despite the endless abuse and the attempts at mental reconditioning but eventually she ... changed.

_I'm not changing, _she told herself,_ I'm simply painting my soul black. I have to protect Booker, and Noah will only respond to a soul as dark as his own. _

Elizabeth watched Reed shoot his violent ex-subordinate in the temple, killing him instantly.

More images of Colombia erupted within Elizabeth's mind.

_They were cornered in a alley. Elizabeth hid behind a barrel, nervous. But Booker ... Booker was so confident in his own violence and skill. He didn't even bother to hide - he shot at the four guards chasing them ... and it took only four bullets to end their pursuit. Elizabeth had watched the man with reverence: he was ... magnificent. Unstoppable. And he was doing all of this ... for her._

Noah had been looking at her as she again mentally drifted off. Her beautiful blue eyes were aimed in the direction of Vincenzo's corpse but they were clearly focused on nothing specific. The Negotiator finally decided to interrupt her thoughts.

"DeWitt doesn't know about you, does he?" Noah questioned with a sly smile, "otherwise you wouldn't have waited so long to display these remarkable powers of yours. Why hide from him? Or ... do you hide from _everyone_?"

A harshness gripped Elizabeth's pretty features as her vision snapped toward Reed. She strove to produce the fiercest of flames within her heart before speaking.

"Make no mistake, Mr. Negotiator," she warned, "you're the only man who knows. And if a single soul learns of me from you, I'll grant you a death so painful that you'll consider all the violent atrocities you've committed the work of an amateur."

"Now now, don't invoke my competitive spirit," Reed scolded with a playful smirk.

Elizabeth glowered. She forced herself to recall the reasons why she was sparing the criminal's life: the debt repayment, Booker's knack for drawing negative attention from various mafias ... and the surprising fact that somehow, between Vincenzo, Booker and Noah, all of whom had murdered within the past four nights, Noah was the only one that killed someone who conceivably deserved to die.

"Are you not taking me seriously, Mr. Negotiator?"

"Forgive me," Noah requested with a small bow of the head though he was unable to remove that smirk, "I merely jest. Loki resides in my mind - "

"-whispering his darkest thoughts," Elizabeth finished icily, as she was well enough acquainted with the man's past to know his most common excuse for his diabolical sense of humor, "it was a difficult decision - my choice to spare your life. In fact, I'm still musing over what punishment you've earned yourself earlier today when you humiliated Booker."

"Ah, that," Noah responded quickly, "let's speak candidly of the subject. You strike me as a logical, intelligent individual ... I hope you can consider my words without any womanly or affectionate bias."

Elizabeth tilted her head to the side. She was beginning to realize Noah's attitude toward women managed to be equal parts condescending and reverent. Reed would sooner take a bullet than allow his destructive criminal antics to harm an innocent lady, but he also considered women weak and incapable of prioritizing logic over emotional desire.

"Oh, sure. Explain yourself to me," Elizabeth muttered sarcastically, "I'd love to hear this."

"You've supposedly dallied for hours within the tales of my personal history," Reed spoke with confidence, "has DeWitt's past earned similar scrutiny? He's committed some truly despicable, brutal acts."

Elizabeth stared at him. With a harsh look, without words. The man was certainly ... correct.

"DeWitt is a notoriously violent _savage _who essentially stole money from a well-established _Mafia_. Am I expected to approach such a man with a sincere smile, a slap to his hand and a kind request that he take his debt seriously?"

"You truly think that justifies your cruel methods, Noah?" Elizabeth snapped, "have you _ever _attempted to collect in a civil manner?"

"I endeavored to motivate DeWitt without bloodshed," Reed clarified, "my methods are a result of more than sixteen years of experience with the foulest of men. I speak the language of thugs and murderers, Elizabeth; You seem capable of learning it. You're about to rob me of thousands ... and your methods include mockingly provocative whispers and touches, the mutilation of my ex-employee in a spectacular fashion and repeated threats. Tell me, did I miss your attempt to collect from me in a civil manner?"

Elizabeth, despite her inward frustration, smiled. The man was making some valid points. Still, she absolutely would never condone his heartless methods for collecting.

"Some men don't warrant civility. When I approached Mr. DeWitt, I knew my enemy," the Negotiator argued, pressing daringly close to the female as he set a hand on her hip, "just as when you approached me, you knew yours."

"Oh, Mr. Negotiator, you think yourself my enemy? That's cute," Elizabeth retorted, again patting that brawny chest before moving her dainty hand to touch the tall man's neck, "you're my _dog_. And I intend to fashion you a very tight leash."

Noah couldn't prevent his lips from twisting into a smirk.

"What if I'm not the sort that tolerates a leash well?"

"In that case," Elizabeth murmured softly, examining Reed's jawline, "I don't suspect you have very long to live."

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Ernest was paralyzed by the bleak musings that overwhelmed his mind.

He just told Booker that Noah may be at Hotel Astor.

... What if Reed truly_ was_ at Hotel Astor?

If Booker found the Negotiator and didn't manage to kill him, then the tall criminal would soon discover that he was the one that babbled Noah's location.

Not to mention, when Reed returned, Karl would have a bloodied face and Piero would have a head wound. Jacoby would be the only one among the thugs that looked like he made no effort to stop Booker.

Ernest tugged at his own mustache nervously.

_Help me lord. If he didn't have enough of a reason to kill me before, he certainly will have justification now ... _

He glanced at Piero - the young gunman was still completely unconscious. He glanced at Karl's fallen body - he couldn't get a good look at him, but the thug wasn't moving.

Jacoby looked about and found a large frying pan within the stove. He held the cast-iron object with two hands and stared at it for a complete minute. The soft-hearted criminal braced himself, summoned all the power of will he could, and swung the pan into his own forehead harshly.

"Bah!" Jacoby groaned, dropped the pan and staggered back into the wall. The color white claimed his vision and pain immediately exploded within his skull. The skin on his forehead had split and blood seeped from the wound.

On the floor in the corner of the room, Karl Voheim began to snicker. The beaten, bloodied criminal had shifted to look at Ernest just in time to see the man smack himself with some sort of kitchenware.

Jacoby's heart froze; Karl had witnessed the act.

"You're conscious?!" Ernest shouted nervously, nursing the blood-gush on his forehead. It wouldn't take more than a minute for his wrists and cufflinks to become colored Grotesque Red.

The question made Karl laugh even louder as the battered criminal slowly rose to his feet. Booker had inflicted a decent amount of damage to the quiet man's face. Voheim's nose was clearly broken - now crooked and bloody. His right eye was swollen, soon doomed to blacken, and his lip was split on the left side. Despite the damage, Karl had already decided witnessing Ernest's self-inflicted head trauma was well-worth the impending black eye and a broken nose.

The two wounded men looked at each other and, despite the insanity of the situation, despite the bleed from Ernest's head that would earn shrieks from his wife, despite the potentially fatal consequences of this day's betrayals, Jacoby discovered a small, bizarre smile.

"You look as though a rhinoceros sat itself on your face," Ernest commented as blood started to dribble into his left eye. He instinctively blinked.

Karl smiled.

The sight of a smile on that beaten, structured face nearly made Ernest laugh ... but the queer light-heartedness of the situation eventually spoiled as thoughts of Noah surfaced within his mind.

"Are you ... going to tell him?" Jacoby asked tentatively, still holding his throbbing head. It'd be a shame to be killed over smacking yourself with an iron pan ... even if it was a desperate attempt to deceive your sadistic employer.

"You owe me a drink," Karl responded - the first set of spoken words he had uttered this day. The thug turned toward Piero's unconscious body and began tapping the back of the young-gun's head, attempting to wake him.

For the first time in a long time, Jacoby's heart warmed toward one of his criminal coworkers. He bit his lip, musing for a small moment. If Noah chose to forgive Ernest's hesitance at scalping Booker earlier ... If DeWitt failed to find the Negotiator at Hotel Astor and if Karl kept the pan-incident a secret ... he might actually survive this day.

"Karl ... "

The beefy thug glanced at him, still tapping Piero's softly breathing but motionless body.

"My wife, Martha," Jacoby began awkwardly, " ... she's making a ham roast this oncoming thursday eve. Perhaps you and your sister ... Dorothy, was it? Perhaps the pair of you should join us."

Karl thought over the invitation. A ham dinner with a family? Karl was so used to being his sister's only company ... What would it be like for them to share food and drink with happy children, a kind father and a merry wife?

_Dorothy would enjoy it,_ Voheim decided.

Karl nodded wordlessly as he began to lift Piero's relatively small body and hoisted it onto his large shoulder.

"Good, good," Ernest said, before venturing to the bathroom. He stole a handtowel. As he pressed it against his bleeding forehead, he moved before the mirror.

_I might survive this_, Jacoby decided optimistically, gazing at himself.

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Booker's lungs burned, and each heaving breath forced pained protests from his ribs. New York City's citizens filled the streets; they gave the ex-Pinkerton, who was running without a coat through the light rain, some curious looks.

Once he reached Time's Square, he gazed about for Hotel Astor, catching his breath. When he successfully identified it, he charged into the luxurious hotel. DeWitt was so firmly attached to his goal of finding Elizabeth that he didn't realize how conspicuous he looked: wet and cheaply-dressed in a building that embraced affluence and extravagance.

DeWitt charged toward the front desk, shocking the Hotel's clerk.

"Did a tall, blonde man with glasses check in here with a pretty, dark-haired lady?"

"Sir," the clerk began, annoyed, "we do not share such information with-"

"-you do now," Booker snarled as he lifted his vest just enough to show off the handle of his cobalt pistol within the rim of his pants.

The clerk's eyes widened.

"Where is he?" the ex-Pinkerton demanded loudly.

"He's ... he's not here," the hotel clerk murmured.

The ex-soldier slammed his fist into the table, prompting a few gasps and whispers from nearby patrons. People were watching him now, but DeWitt was beyond caring. He glared at the hotel attendant.

"Sir," and the clerk leaned forward to whisper, "I ... I know who you're seeking: Mr. Reed. He ... he does indeed frequent this hotel, always with female company, but I assure you, at this moment ... _he's not here_."

Booker grimaced.

_How the hell am I going to find them ... ? _

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Elizabeth had been listing a series of rules for the Negotiator before her powers revealed that DeWitt was racing through the city with violent intentions. This disturbed her enough to prematurely end her meeting with Reed.

"Booker's running about the city with a gun ... searching for us," she admitted, slightly embarrassed over it, "we must retrieve him."

Of course, the information forced a predictable concern from Noah: "So. DeWitt escaped his apartment. Were there any casualties?"

"He spared your men."

They hasilty returned to Reed's car after Elizabeth disposed of Vincenzo's hands and body deep within New York City's bay.

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It had thankfully ceased raining at this point.

Two Galucci mafiosos walked through the streets of Time's Square: one short and pale, the other thick and ruddy.

"I can't wait to see tomorrow's headlines: 'Galucci Mob Boss rescues nine whores from public humiliation' ... 'Stefano Galucci: New York City's Whore Hero,' " the thicker one snickered.

"The Negotiator didn't look happy when he realized Stefano invited that journalist to our whore liberation efforts," the short man commented.

"No, no he didn't. Still ... Reed's smart. Smart enough to realize there's a method within Stefano's madness. The Bianchis are fucking nuts and were making us respectable criminals look bad, dragging out all those women onto the street naked ... Stefano turned this tale of woe into a tale of heroism, and he made sure this whole city will know about it... "

"Can't believe Stefano didn't fuck any of them," the short man ridiculed, "he took them to that department store and bought them all dresses ... _then _he took them out to breakfast. How does someone buy nine women clothes and food without fucking a single one? I would have fucked all nine of them."

The two men continued to converse as they stepped by Hotel Astor. It was an unfortunate coincidence that happened to be the exact moment an emotionally tortured Booker exited the front door.

"Heh, Stefano's married," the tubby man reasoned, "besides ... you wouldn't have been able to fuck that pretty one with the great teats. The Negotiator seemed very pleased by her."

"Yah, she was real pretty ... I wonder if they're fucking right now."

With their backs turned, neither would view the look of anger that erupted on DeWitt's face at the overheard mention of the Negotiator. It was a pity for them that Booker only heard the most incriminating portion of their conversation.

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The first half of Elizabeth's car ride with Noah had been wordless. She was watching Booker from afar, and his desperation filled her with anxiety. The Negotiator, meanwhile, was musing over all the laws his newfound goddess had decreed. A couple were rather ... amusing.

The first decree had been he was not allowed to hurt Booker DeWitt or purposely put him in harm's way. This rule prompted an interesting exchange of words...

_"Correct me if I'm mistaken, but I sense Mr. DeWitt isn't particularly affectionate toward me."_

_"Oh Noah. You continue to impress me with your intelligence," Elizabeth responded sarcastically._

_"I may, in fact, inspire murderous intentions from him," Reed mentioned with a smirk._

_"Truly? Cannot fathom why," the unapologetic female quipped._

_"Should Booker seek me out with violent aspirations, am I permitted to defend myself?"_

_"No," she answered._

_"... No," Reed repeated, "so, let's entertain a hypothetical: Booker has his cobalt aimed at my face-"_

_"-You will simply let him shoot you," Elizabeth smiled._

_The Negotiator chuckled before muttering: "fantastic."_

A family crossing the street forced Noah to stop his car. The Negotiator took the opportunity to look at the stunning woman beside him.

Elizabeth caught his gaze.

"Why do you keep staring at me?" she sighed.

"Simple answer: you're beautiful."

Elizabeth flushed slightly before speaking: "I must inform you that I am perfectly happy with Booker and, as far as physical exchanges are concerned, he's a _fantastic_ lover, so you may as well cease your flirtations."

Reed smirked as his focus returned toward the road.

"Is DeWitt the first man you've exchanged pleasure with?" the Negotiator asked casually.

Elizabeth glared at him. The implication of the question was clear: _you may only believe DeWitt's fantastic because you've never been with another man. _Noah's words also reminded her that, disturbingly, Reed was the first man she touched lips with that wasn't Booker ...

"You introduced this subject," the tall criminal reminded, sensing her angered glare, holding back a laugh.

Elizabeth was about to spout out a threat before her supernatural sight spied Booker lunging at two Galucci mafiosos in broad daylight just outside Hotel Astor.

"Drive faster," she urged, "Booker's attacking two Galucci mobsters ... "

"Am I truly the one who deserves a leash?" Noah inquired, again struggling not to laugh. He did, however, ease down on the gas pedal, as she demanded.

"Do you strive to earn yourself a _muzzle_ as well, Mr. Negotiator?" Elizabeth responded testily.

"Don't fret, my goddess. We're two blocks from Time's Square."

"Let me out at the next block; I'll walk the rest of the way."

And this is when the Negotiator plotted his first act of betrayal. He parked at the next block, as instructed, but, to Elizabeth's surprise, when she exited the car ... so did he.

"I want to go alone, Noah!" she shouted at the tall man.

"I'm the Negotiator, Elizabeth, and I have principles," Reed admonished with a smirk, stalking toward Time's Square, "I will not hide from a single man, and I _certainly_ will not hide behind _a woman_."

Elizabeth wanted to use her powers. It would have been so easy to simply pluck his body off this street and place him at the other side of the city where he could not interfere. But the streets were filled with people ... There would be so many witnesses.

Furious, Elizabeth had to lift her skirts and jog just to catch up with Reed's long, hasty steps. When she stood beside the man, she snarled: "he has a gun. He will _shoot you_, Noah."

"such irony!" The Negotiator laughed, flashing Elizabeth a wink as they nearly raced toward Booker's location, "Mr. DeWitt may shoot me before I can pay off his debt. Honestly, I'll laugh to death if the bullet fails to claim me first."

"I can kill you, Noah. _ Painfully_," she rasped quietly.

"Oh? Divine retribution? _In front of all these people?_" Reed shouted the last part, which earned them a few stares, "I think not, but perhaps I find such a fate preferable to living on a lady's leash."

"You'll regret this, Noah," Elizabeth promised.

"I bet I can provoke him into killing me without even drawing my gun."

"You insolent, ridiculous _bastard_!"

"Calm yourself, my dear," the Negotiator scolded as they reached the street corner, "perhaps this inevitable encounter will yield a positive outcome for you and your sad, violent lover. At the very least, it'll be _fun_."

As they stepped into Time's Square, they saw a noisy crowd that was undoubtedly observing the brawl between Booker and the two mafiosos.

"Have you been searching for me, Mr. DeWitt!? I'm flattered!" Reed called out loudly. He estimated he was roughly one-hundred feet away from the altercation occurring before hotel Astor. This was more than close enough for a well-established marksman such as Booker to shoot him, so he stopped advancing, allowing Elizabeth to press forward alone.

As Noah watched Elizabeth charge with all her speed toward DeWitt's location, as he listened to her call out her lover's name, Reed's imagination churned. The criminal wondered, if he were fast enough, if Elizabeth were distracted enough ... could he successfully draw his gun and shoot the retreating female in her back before she suspected danger? He felt it would be quite an accomplishment: the Negotiator claiming the life of a goddess ...

Noah smirked. Sometimes having principles can be rather debilitating; the notorious criminal _would_ have shot a _god_.

ooooooooooooooooo

ooooooooooooooooo

The two mafiosos Booker assaulted didn't have the answers he wanted. They denied knowing where Reed was ... they denied that the pretty woman they had spoken of was Elizabeth. Still, he believed they had to know _something_ ... they clearly saw Noah at some point today.

So DeWitt decided to start beating them for his answers.

The ex-Pinkerton already had the short one curled on the ground with a broken wrist and a bruised face. He was currently punching a bloody tooth out of the fat mafioso's mouth before a familiar voice pierced through the murmurs of the crowd: "Have you been searching for me, Mr. DeWitt!? I'm flattered!"

"Noah ... " the ex-soldier snarled, shoving the large mafioso to the ground. Those fierce eyes travelled toward the voice's direction, but Booker was surrounded by a slew of opaque spectators.

The ex-soldier was about to pull out his gun and shoot in the sky so he could force the crowd to disperse and reveal the Negotiator, but Elizabeth's voice froze his actions.

"Booker! Stop!"

"Elizabeth?!" he called out, running toward the sound of her voice. They found each other in the middle of the crowd and instantly embraced.

"Did he hurt you?"

"No, no, I'm fine," she answered.

"Did he _touch_ you?"

"He didn't touch me," she lied.

"Where is he ... I'm going to make sure he never tries to again," Booker vowed, eyes shifting toward the street corner. He finally spotted the tall bastard. The sadistic criminal was lighting a cigarette before noticing he had DeWitt's attention.

"Booker, don't!" Elizabeth pleaded.

"I thank you for letting me borrow your beautiful woman," the Negotiator taunted as he moved that cigarette to his lips, "I had a _wondrous _afternoon."

DeWitt shot Elizabeth an accusing look.

"Booker, calm down, he's just trying to provoke you," the desperate beauty implored, squeezing his arms as though she could root him in place.

"Well," the ex-Pinkerton growled as he reached beneath his shirt to grab his gun, "he's doing a real fucking good job of it."

A few people screamed. The crowd instantly began to disperse.

"What are you doing, Booker!? You can't shoot someone in broad daylight! What will happen to Anna and I if you end up in prison?"

The words caused him to pause.

"Should I survive the shot ... I'll care for your family during your absence," Noah offered mirthfully, exhaling smoke.

"You son-of-a-bitch," the ex-soldier barked as he aimed his pistol toward the Negotiator.

"Booker listen! He's going to pay the debt. The entire debt. We'll be free. We can be - "

"- the _entire debt_?" Perhaps this news shocked and angered DeWitt more than any of Noah's words had. Booker grabbed Elizabeth's arm with his free hand, squeezing her harshly, "what the hell did you offer him that would make him want to pay my entire debt!? Do you have any idea how much money I owed ... ?"

Elizabeth was stunned by the combination of the ex-Pinkerton's close-ranged snarls and forceful grip. She had never seen him like this, and was suddenly unable to speak.

"What did you offer him?! What did you give him? Why are you _lying to me_?"

"I ... "

Though Reed found their interaction very interesting, particularly because Elizabeth was a very different woman around Booker, the sight of DeWitt snagging her arm and growling in her face forced a mean-spirited intervention from the Negotiator.

"Believe me, Mr. DeWitt," Noah interrupted smugly, "if I had penetrated your woman, I'd be gloating endlessly at the moment."

The words instantly summoned a glare from the ex-Pinkerton, but oddly enough he lowered his gun.

"Then _what_ did she give you?" Booker demanded. He imagined smashing in Reed's face as the tall criminal took a drag from his cigarette.

"Information," the Negotiator finally answered, "she cleverly forced Vincenzo to implicate himself for crimes I neither manufactured nor condoned."

"Information? How did she ... " the ex-soldier paused, taking a deep breath before turning toward Elizabeth, "how did you obtain such information?"

"Just stop this, Booker, please. I want to go home," Elizabeth begged, silently hating Noah for following her into Time's Square and inciting this situation, "I want to start living our happy, debt-free lives."

The plea softened DeWitt's heart. Still, accusations flooded his mind. Some sort of crime had been committed. Some sort of betrayal hid beneath a guise of half-truths. Images of Elizabeth and Noah together were starting to imprint within his mind ...

"I don't ... I don't believe you two. Somethings going on. You two are-"

"-What does it matter, Mr. DeWitt?" Noah interrupted suddenly, "just be grateful you have a woman capable of handling your affairs."

"Shut your damn mouth, Reed," the ex-Pinkerton snapped.

The tall criminal smirked before adding: "I've been recently informed that you're a _fantastic _lover. Perhaps you should consider that your role in the relationship and leave issues of finance to her. - Congratulations, by the way."

" ... you know what," Booker said, "you're right."

The Negotiator blinked. He briefly wondered if it was possible to verbally provoke someone's brain into twisting one-hundred-and-eighty degrees, because that's what he suspected just happened.

"Whatever Elizabeth offered you is off the table," DeWitt decided, "I need to handle my own affairs ... my own debts."

"Booker, stop! I told you I want to go home. Anna needs us ... " Elizabeth urged, fearing this conversation's potential outcome.

Noah tilted his head to the side, examining Booker. Wisps of smoke escaped his lips as he pondered.

"That's surprisingly noble of you ... reassuming responsibility for your debt," Reed complimented, "however, we both know you can't afford any more payments."

"I have something else I can offer," DeWitt suggested.

"I assume you're about to offer me your services."

"Damn it, Booker, stop!" Elizabeth growled, slapping at the ex-Pinkerton's arm, "it's finished. The debt's paid. It's done!"

"Yes, I am," the ex-soldier responded to Noah. The truth was he wanted to feel like a man again. A man. And this day filled with thugs and violence, with _work_ ... had given him a sense of purpose that was different from what he garnered from Elizabeth's company and Anna's needs. It was that purpose he wanted. He would work off this debt on his own and return to Elizabeth and Anna as a provider, not a drunken mooch. Booker so desperately wanted to be worthy of Elizabeth and Anna. And he certainly loathed the idea of Elizabeth making any more sacrifices on his behalf.

"Mm," Reed huffed before glancing at an incredibly beautiful and incredibly annoyed Elizabeth. She was _glaring_ at him. The sort of glare that promised a goddess' wrath should he dare accept Booker's offer.

Noah smirked. His often reckless pursuit of fun nearly always won out over his sense of self-preservation.

"You're not out of practice," Reed pressed, moving his arm to the side and tapping excess ash off the tip of his cigarette, "are you?"

Booker lifted his arm and took a shot in Noah's direction at stunning speed.

"No!" Elizabeth gasped out.

The Negotiator remained calm - he didn't even flinch - and waited for either the sensation of pain or the silence of death.

Neither came.

Had DeWitt missed?

Booker may have been amused by Noah's confusion if he weren't in such a sour mood. He watched the tall criminal glance down at his own body, searching for evidence of a gunshot wound ...

"Look at your fucking cigarette," DeWitt hollered.

Noah did so, and the deepest of grins emerged on the man's face. Half of the cigarette he had held at his side was missing. The ex-soldier's movements had not only been shockingly fast and fluent, but possessed an astonishing level of accuracy. Reed had been surrounded by gunman since he was twelve and he had _never_ seen anything like this.

"You just shot a cigarette from a distance of roughly one-hundred feet ... "

"That's right," Booker responded.

Noah, still staring at the cigarette, laughed before announcing: "you're hired."

Elizabeth clenched her teeth together. Booker was an imbecile, Noah was disobedient and neither man was fucking listening to her. She silently decided both men would pay for this, though Reed's punishment was doomed to be far more painful than her lover's.

The irate woman watched her stubborn partner step away from her. The Negotiator and Booker strode toward each other and, when they were within range of each other, extended their hands to shake on the deal.

"No jobs involving women or children," DeWitt insisted.

"My, how will I endure such a restriction," Reed quipped, squeezing Booker's hand, "this city literally possesses thousands of children that I needed a man with your level of skill to dispatch."

"Listen to me you cocky bastard," the ex-Pinkerton growled, staring up toward Noah, "this is a temporary arrangement. The _moment_ I pay off the debt, we're enemies. And trust me, when that happens, if I see you and happen to have a gun in my hand, I will shoot you. And if you _ever_ fucking touch Elizabeth again, I'll hunt you down and scalp you."

The Negotiator smiled.

"This promises to be an excellent professional relationship. - "

"- this 'relationship' won't last," Elizabeth promised, stalking toward the two men with a dark expression on her face, "I'm literally going to kill both of you."

Both men glanced toward Elizabeth: Booker frowned as Noah smiled and winked.

ooooooooooooooooo

ooooooooooooooooo

Piero Pelosi was sitting on a stool in the center of their safehouse. He had woke up from his debilitating beat-down to discover a brutal head-throb. This wasn't surprising, considering Booker DeWitt had smacked his forehead roughly into a kitchen table twice. The young thug made a silent vow that should he ever have a gun in his hand when Booker DeWitt was present, he would shoot the damn bastard.

"So ... what the hell happened after DeWitt took that cheap shot at me ... ?" Piero asked the two other criminals pointedly. He had been unconscious for most of the action.

Ernest's only response was a sigh. He and the predictably-silent Karl stood at the window, waiting for the Negotiator.

Piero clucked his tongue, deciding once again that he missed Vincenzo's presence.

Ernest was trapped within various musings. The thugs had handled the Booker-situation very sloppily. Reed wouldn't be happy. He _might_ be temporarily amused, but he certainly wouldn't be happy.

Piero made a second attempt at a conversation: "Guess that DeWitt is a pretty tough guy, eh? He claimed blood from each one of us ... even the boss."

_Well, at least my pan-wound fooled Piero ... _Ernest noted.

As if sensing Jacoby's thoughts, Karl flashed him a knowing smirk. Ernest managed a half-smile ... the pan-incident wasn't exactly the proudest moment of his criminal career. He was glad a man notorious for not speaking was the one to witness it.

The sight of the Negotiator's car parking across the street forced Jacoby to nervously tug at his moustache.

"He's here ... "

ooooooooooooooooo

ooooooooooooooooo

Reed got out of his car and slowly trudged toward the safehouse.

It had truly been an interesting day for the Negotiator. An _exciting_ day. A day that he understood may very well end with his death. Noah imagined Elizabeth would wait until Booker left for Buffalo and the criminal was alone before confronting him.

Beautiful Elizabeth. The fascinating woman presented an interesting dichotomy. In Booker's presence she had been an anxious, desperate girl who apparently wanted a normal life ... In his own presence, she was a fearless goddess: seductive and capable of extreme violence.

Noah would spend all day pondering which version of her, if either, represented her true self.

He wanted to know more.

He _needed_ to know more.

Why would a goddess choose a normal life with Booker DeWitt? 'A normal life with Booker' sounded more like a repulsive curse than an appropriate destiny for a goddess. Why would a woman who could have _anything ... anyone_ ... not only willingly _choose_ such a fate, but desperately cling to it?

Booker's daughter must have something to do with it ... Noah hadn't forgotten those stunning topaz eyes that both females shared. There must be some sort of connection deeper than coincidence.

Reed snorted at his own musings. He likely wouldn't live long enough to find the answers he so deeply craved.

When the tall criminal finally stepped within the safehouse, the sight of his three wounded subordinates brought a smirk to his face.

"I can't contain my pride," Noah chuckled, "well done, gentlemen."

"Booker ... he escaped," Ernest murmured.

"I'm aware. - We're finished for the day," the Negotiator announced, beckoning them, "remove your hats."

The three men lined up before Noah, each holding their hats. Piero was first.

Reed examined the moderate bruising on the young man's head before asking, "any other wounds?"

"No, sir."

"You're fine," the tall criminal declared, "go."

Piero bowed silently and stepped past the Negotiator toward the exit. The young gun found himself glad that Noah didn't ask him to recount his failure aloud.

Karl had been next in line. Reed examined the quiet thug's crooked nose and bruised eye.

"Your nose ... "

Voheim nodded.

Noah reached toward Karl's face with his gloved hands. Around Voheim's broken nose, he used two pairs of fingers and his thumbs to form a triangle.

"Take a deep breath, exhale as I realign," the tall criminal instructed, "ready?"

"Yah," Karl confirmed. He grunted as Reed carefully, slowly realigned his nasal cartilage with his chin. Quite painful.

The Negotiator examined his work before removing his hands and advising: "Aspirin and ice for both your eye and your nose as soon as you're home. On your way, now."

Voheim nodded and stepped out, leaving behind Ernest and Noah.

The two men stared at each other for a moment.

Reed smirked as Ernest stepped forward. He examined the shorter man's head - It was difficult to see the wound with all the dried blood saturating Jacoby's forehead.

"Must have been quite a bleed ... so much for your little love affair with DeWitt ... " Noah remarked as he stepped deeper into the safehouse.

Ernest bit his lip. The Negotiator's words were both a victory and a failure for the moustached man - he apparently believed the ex-pinkerton caused the wound, but Jacoby hadn't earned a dismissal yet. He turned and watched Noah fetch a wooden chair and a medicine bag from the corner of the room.

"Come, Ernest. Allow me to clean the wound you valiantly incurred on my behalf," Reed 'offered' as he set the chair next to Piero's abandoned stool.

Jacoby attempted to control the beat of his heart. As a precaution, Noah had a medicine bag hidden at each of their safehouses ... and Ernest knew very well that, in addition to various medical supplies, each bag contained a set of knives.

"I can ... have Martha take care of it. She's good at this sort of thing."

"Now, now, my friend. I insist," Noah responded, smiling, as he pat the top of the chair's back.

ooooooooooooooooo

ooooooooooooooooo

Elizabeth and Booker walked home together; the results were chaotic. Snarls and accusations were slung mercilessly toward each other. Booker still clung to the notion that some sort of inappropriate union had occurred between Reed and his beautiful lover.

Once within DeWitt's apartment, they turned and shouted in each other's faces.

"At any point, _at any point_, Booker, did you hear either Noah or myself say that our bargaining would involve sex?"

"He _told me_ he wanted you," the ex-soldier declared.

"That doesn't answer my question, Booker! You don't have any proof-"

"-he said he was going to have you lick his neck!" DeWitt growled. Tension was the current theme of his body's posture - like an aggressive animal about to pounce.

Elizabeth's frustration swelled.

"I keep telling you, Booker. We did nothing. There_ was. No. Licking_."

"How can you expect me to believe that?" the ex-Pinkerton questioned testily , "look at you! You never dress like this. Like some sort of siren." It was difficult for the man to accept - the notion that Elizabeth put forth a unique effort to seduce his foul debt-collector.

Suddenly the irritated female was desperate to end the argument. Repeated denials seemed to only deepen her lover's frustrations and prompt more accusations.

"And what of _you_? I'm still mad at _you_, Booker," she hissed, "you foolishly gambled away_ our _money. Money we needed. And if it weren't for Ernest's kindness you'd likely be maimed or _dead_ right now - "

"- the first thing you did when you entered the apartment today -"

"-And what awful crime were you guiltily hinting of last night? - "

"- Damn it, Elizabeth! We're not talking about me right now."

"Why not?! You've yet to answer for your sins and I'm exhausted by the subject of my imaginary betrayal. "

"Just admit you did it!" Booker shouted, repositioning so that his face was inches within Elizabeth's, "did you _enjoy_ it?"

Fury flashed within blue eyes. Were all men _fools_? Elizabeth, for a small moment, wondered if the world would be better off without the male gender. Booker's irascible barking and Noah's guileful provocations had produced a level of anger within her that she hadn't felt since Comstock's abusive torture session back at Colombia. Both men were _ridiculous_, and their most despicable flaws seemed to mount in each other's presence.

"Even if it were true, Booker, _what of it_? What if I did satisfy the man_ on your behalf_? Out of _affection_ for you and Anna? Instead of seeing it as a sacrifice you'd have the nerve to label it a betrayal?"

_I'll convince her to leave you behind ... _Noah's words wouldn't leave the frustrated man's mind. The ex-Pinkerton went silent but his expression remained disturbingly harsh, which further upset the spunky female. Elizabeth was about to be mean; in her heart she knew her following words were cruel but she was unable to stop herself.

"What would you do in such a case, Booker?! Cast me out? Fine! I can think of a tall, exceptionally handsome man who'd gladly - "

DeWitt suddenly seizing her by the hips interrupted her threat. Elizabeth's eyes widened ... neither this version of Booker nor the version that rescued her from Colombia had ever touched her with such aggression.

"What are you doing?!" she cried out as he lifted her. The ex-soldier didn't answer, but the harshness and aggression remained present on his features. An instinctual sense of fear claimed her as Booker carried her to the bedroom and tossed her petite form onto the bed. DeWitt crawled over her and started tugging at her skirt and stockings. Elizabeth intuitively attempted to keep her legs closed but the ex-Pinkerton's knee prevented the act.

The fear transformed back into that familiar anger when Booker's hands forced her thighs apart and he leaned downward to observe her exposed quim; she finally recognized the jealous man's intentions: he was searching for physical evidence of a sexual encounter.

Just as DeWitt was beginning to realize there weren't any signs of a recent penetration, Elizabeth sat upward. Booker rose to look her in the eye, and that's when he earned the fiercest smack the insulted female could manage.

"You bastard!" she rasped.

Of course her soft hand didn't do any damage. It didn't even _slow_ the man. That cracked rib didn't even slow the man. The ex-soldier used his upper body weight to press her back onto the bed, forcing a kiss against her lips. She emitted a short moan and scolded herself for it silently. It was ... ridiculous that she was somehow becoming aroused by Booker's jealous aggressions. DeWitt pulled the bejeweled pin out of her hair as though he found the accessory offensive, whipping it into the wall.

"I'm so mad at you," she muttered against his lips when she felt calloused fingers begin to stroke her womanhood.

"Mine," Booker murmured huskily before slipping his tongue into her cooperative mouth. Elizabeth was grabbing at his shoulders as he roughly began to tug at the neckline of her dress. She moaned and squirmed away from his kiss when she realized what he was about to do.

"Booker! I don't own this dress!" she hissed futiley as the fabric began to rip. DeWitt jerked the material out of the way, looking down to enjoy the sight of her exposed right breast. His mouth was on her then, nibbling and licking at her nipple as two fingers slid inside her slickening pussy.

"Damn it, Booker! You're such an ... imbecile ... " she complained breathlessly as her body began to respond to Booker's ministrations. Those fingers were scissoring inside her velvety tunnel, that mouth was sucking on her sensitive breast. Her nails found the flesh at the back of her lover's neck; they dug into his skin.

The ex-soldier grunted. He lightly bit her nipple in retaliation before pulling back from her body. Elizabeth sighed when those fingers pulled from her heated tunnel.

Hungrily and without warning, the powerful man grabbed at her body and flipped her so she was facedown on the bed. Those strong hands repositioned her further, hoisting her hips high for his access. Elizabeth was angry but there was no preventing this. Truth be told, even though a small part of her was terrified by this forceful version of her traditionally respectful lover, she didn't want him to stop.

Elizabeth clutched the sheets and spread her legs slightly. Her cunt dripped expectantly. Within moments she felt Booker's firm prick press inside her.

She groaned.

DeWitt _began_ with long, relentless thrusts. He'd pull his prick back until her pussylips hugged his tip, then jam himself completely inside her warmth.

That powerful body demanded Elizabeth's moans and sighs. Her warm tunnel stretched to accommodate that thick tool and the beautiful girl felt delicious pressure build quickly within her body. As naughty as it felt being pummeled in this position, the effects of it stole her breath. Booker was repeatedly stroking a spot within her that made her body sizzle and quiver. His movements felt so possessive, so fervent ... And she somehow felt powerful and powerless at the same time: Elizabeth alone brought this passionate desperation from her handsome father, but she also could never refuse this supreme lust. Taking his entire cock again and again quickly summoned that familiar, sumptuous throb ...

"What are you ... my body ... " she groaned incoherently. On a physical level Elizabeth's body was so responsive to their fucking - she squeezed with each thrust, gasped at the feel of their bodies slapping together, quivered before her lover's strength.

DeWitt impaled Elizabeth fully and paused his pumps. He gripped the gorgeous female's hips firmly and rolled his own, stirring his cock within her. Booker then proceeded to drag that body across the length of his rigid prick several times. The feel of Elizabeth's tight, moist channel was incredible, and after experiencing her, he truly believed no other woman could satiate him so completely.

The moaning female's toes and fingers curled; her pleasure was about to burst.

Booker embedded himself balls-deep within her again, sensing she was close. He leaned downward to press into her back.

"Say you're mine," he growled in Elizabeth's ear, reaching around to grab at her bare breast.

"Uh," she moaned urgently. The loss of that succulent friction kept her from finishing. The lustful woman twisted and attempted to buck on his prick, desperate to cum. Booker's hand was roughly tugging at her breast.

"Say it," DeWitt repeated as he pinched and pulled at her nipple, inching his dick back and forth teasingly within her.

"Booker, you ... I've _always_ been yours ... " Elizabeth breathed out, frustrated and embarrassed. Her pussy pulsed ... begging for release.

The ex-soldier continued to hover over her back as he began short, deep pumps within that juicy cunt. Elizabeth groaned immediately and arched to facilitate Booker's furious thrusting. There was so much heat that Colombia's lamb imagined she was about to melt. The friction that swollen cock produced brought her to the cusp of an intense orgasm. She cried out loudly and her body trembled unavoidably as the fluids of her pleasure leaked from her pulsating quim.

DeWitt continued to use her beautiful body - the body that belong to him. He breathed heavily within her ear, jabbing at her sticky, snug tunnel. Booker spied that pearl necklace about her pale neck and found himself insulted by it. He reached to grip the decorative piece, looped it about his hand twice and tugged at it.

Elizabeth whimpered at the strain the maneuver put on her neck. In the aftermath of her orgasm, the reality of this fuck was beginning to disturb her. It began with an insulting investigation ... the foreplay had been minimal, only enough clothes had been removed to allow their sexual union barring the torn neckline of her dress, their position had demeaningly left her cheek pressed into the bed and ass lifted high ... then there was Booker's obsessive words, his display of dominance ... and now ... the tug of her necklace was starting to squeeze her neck too tightly ...

"B-Booker ... " she called out.

DeWitt ignored her. He was too close to finishing and, in his state of madness, had a primal urge to cum inside his beautiful partner. Several fierce thrusts later, the ex-soldier pulled from her slick cunt ... barely managing to resist the powerful instinct to impregnante her. He released that necklace so he could grip his own cock. He only had to pump it twice before spewing multiple ropes of semen on her thighs and the curve of her rump.

The satisfied man breathed deeply and only felt guilt after he heard the unmoving girl softly murmur: "this isn't my Booker ... "

" ... Elizabeth," the ex-Pinkerton whispered anxiously. After he caught his breath, he reached out to gently grip her shoulder ... but she angrily shrugged away from the touch, crawling away from him on her hands and knees.

"Stay away from me," Elizabeth hissed miserably, wrapping her arms around herself in a sad self-embrace. She softly massaged her own neck and squeezed her sticky thighs together, wishing the evidence of Booker's aggressive use of her body would disappear.

_What is wrong with me ... ? _DeWitt pondered sadly as he observed his lover's hunched posture. There was pain in his eyes, but Elizabeth refused to look at him.

oooooooooooooooo

oooooooooooooooo

**Author's Note:** there hasn't been a lot of reviews for this chapter. Hope I'm not lettin people down. :(

I dwelled over my characterization of Elizabeth repeatedly in this chapter. I do feel it's justified for two reasons. One, end-game Elizabeth(after Comstock's shock torture and therapy) is a different woman from beginning-game Elizabeth(a spirited girl that would dance with strangers). Two, she wants to beat Noah at his own game. How effectively she does/doesn't accomplish this remains to be seen!

Sorry it took so long to get this chapter out. Again, tough semester. I was actually going to hold off finishing this chapter until after a really big exam next week but then I got so many reviews and favs and such that I felt compelled to get some work done for you guys! Thanks everyone. :D

Also I love the fact that I got an Ernest fan out there. Thanks **Dewittypinkerton**! And **IndigoShoelaces** I'm very touched and honored you made an account for this fic. Thank ya! :D

**Shout-outs for repeat reviewers:**

**Darthmaldude: **Thank you! I appreciate the repeat support man. :D

**Paul Perkins:** Yay you're back! Hope you enjoyed the sex scene. Adultfanfiction seems to be a tough crowd for me. I think releasing some sex-less chapters destroyed people's interest over there.

**Darman Skirata: ** Wahaha! I think you'll enjoy my plans for the next chapter. - Thanks for the two reviews!

**Incidental Vegan Cannibal: ** Glad you got to read and I hope you enjoyed it! I originally planned to try to get the angry sex scene into chapter 6 but didn't quite get there. Thanks for the repeat reviewage! You're a major reason why I pushed to get this chapter out before waiting a whole additional week to finish it.

**Mr. Brown: **My muse! Always love hearing from ya. You're always incredibly kind and motivational. Character interaction is incredibly important to me and that's why I use characters like Noah and Ernest to bring more out of Booker and Elizabeth. It's also probably why I brought so many original characters into the story ... but honestly, Elizabeth wouldn't be as cool right now if she hadn't made a show out of mutilating Vincenzo! And I wouldn't have been able to do it well without establishing Vincenzo's personality and a touch of backstory. Also, if you thought Elizabeth was cool last chapter, I think you'll love next chapter. Thank you much!

**Shtoops: **Love bringing out people's malicious grins! I was grinning as I wrote that chapter. I 100% appreciate that you took the time to read/review despite your ridiculous workload and trust me, I definitely sympathize, given my current academic situation. I'm happy as hell you consider it your favorite chapter, I had to do a fair amount of set-up in previous chapters for the Eliz/Vinny/Noah scene so it's awesome that it worked out swimmingly!

Friggen love that Twain quote! I really need to go read some of his work again.

PS: Totally think Fox posted again from an alt account. So amusing.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note**: Hope you guys enjoy this chapter. It's not quite as action-packed as previous chapters but it hopefully has a lot of heart and drama. Some further development on Booker/Elizabeth's feelings and crimes, some drama between Noah and Ernest.

_**Original Character List(with some pics) if you guys need it! **_Giovanni Galucci is _**very **_important this chapter ... Martha Jacoby and the Stool of Wonder have earned small profiles.

tobelongfic . livejournal . com

Take out the spaces!

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Booker held Anna in his arms. She cooed and giggled as he tapped her nose and cheeks.

It was the first time that day he felt ... calm. He had affectionately cleaned and bathed her, fed her ... Now he was focused on making her laugh.

He didn't want to leave her. He didn't want to leave Elizabeth, either, though she was very, very angry with him.

After all the taunts and humiliation ... after all the violence ... his mind went to a dark place. Unfortunately, it wasn't the Negotiator or one of his pathetic thugs that paid the price.

It had been Elizabeth.

DeWitt miserably recalled the expression on her face when he finally got her to turn around and face him: an ugly mix of anger and betrayal with a touch of sadness. He much preferred her smiles; yesterday morning was the last time he had witnessed one.

Apologies and explanations instantly poured from his lips at the sight of her wounded eyes, but it wasn't enough. Even though he felt ... certain, she was hiding _something _from him ... she had at least been honest about not having sex with Noah Reed. Yet ... even if she _had_ done something with the man ... there was no excuse for pulling her thighs apart to satiate his jealous curiosity ... there was no excuse for hurting her ... there was no excuse for taking her in such a forceful way. Why did he demand her loyalty? She wasn't his wife, the mother of his child or his property ... and she had already given him ... so much for so few reasons.

Booker's lacking self-worth brought him to a sad realization: Even if Elizabeth tossed aside sensual exclusivity and slept with every man in the damn city, she'd _still_ be too good of a prize for a chump such as himself. Especially now that he had ... hurt her.

She deserved better.

_What's wrong with me? _ He silently asked the beautiful infant in his hands. Perhaps one day Anna would have the words and understanding to explain it to him.

DeWitt suddenly thought of Ernest Jacoby words: _Focus on surviving to see your daughter's first birthday_ ...

Was it fair to Anna? He had been making foolish, self-destructive decisions the entire week: gambling, drinking ... accepting a job that involved murdering an innocent man and abusing a terrified woman ... giving in to the provocations of a dangerous criminal accompanied by four armed men ... attacking mafiosos and pulling out a gun in the middle of the damn street. Booker would like to pretend the blame belonged entirely to his despicable debt-collector, but he knew better. Was making a deal with Reed one of such poor decisions? It was a noble cause, at least. He was trying to pay off the debt ... and the greatest tools within his kit were all of a violent nature.

When Anna became noticeably sleepy, he set her back within her nursery crib. The act of bending downward produced a sharp pain within his abdomen. Bending down wasn't the best option for easing the pain of a broken rib ... Other poor options included brawling with criminals, jogging through New York City streets and energetic sex.

Booker's thoughts switched back to Elizabeth. She had been in the bathroom for a solid half-hour at this point. He had already been worried over her, but each minute she seemed to ... hide from him just elevated his stress over the situation.

He walked to the bathroom and knocked lightly on the door.

"Elizabeth ... ? Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," she called back instantly.

Booker sighed quietly. He was experienced enough to know that when the words 'I'm fine' left a woman's lips ... it usually meant the exact opposite of the words' connotation.

"I'm not trying to hustle you ... but I'd like to speak to you before I leave," DeWitt informed.

He waited a full minute before realizing she wasn't going to deign him an answer.

" ... I'll be gone for two-and-a-half days, Elizabeth," he added softly.

"I understand."

" ... you know I'm sorry, right?" Booker offered, "I wasn't ... myself."

His apology failed to earn a response. Again, he was feeling dead inside. Caring for Anna had only provided him a temporary recovery. The past twenty-four hours had been exceptionally exhausting for him on an emotional level. He thought of Emerson's wife ... the woman he had struck twice ... the woman he had hit so hard she slumped to the ground. DeWitt truly believed with all his heart that he could never hurt Elizabeth in such a manner ... no matter how stressed, jealous and angry he became.

"Never again ... I promise," Booker pledged before leaving her be.

DeWitt went back to the kitchen and looked about. He didn't have much, but what he did have was completely disheveled. Though Elizabeth usually volunteered to do the cleaning, he would soon have to leave for his escort job to Buffalo, and he had no desire to leave the mess which resulted from his debt and criminal violence in his irritated lover's hands. He removed beer bottles and broken glass from his kitchen table before realizing his frying pan was on the floor with a medium-sized blood spot on it.

"When the hell did this happen?" he asked aloud, thinking over the violent events from earlier. He couldn't recall his pan being pulled from his stove at any point. Was there a scuffle between the remaining criminals within the apartment after he left?

_Hope you're all right, Ernest ... _Booker wished silently.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

_This is it. The finale. He's going to kill me. _

No. Ernest Jacoby did not believe for a second that Noah simply wanted to clean his head wound.

Someone - a man whose name and face Ernest had long-since forgotten - had once told him the key to successfully deterring life's predators was to not look or sound fearful. Look bold. Look defiant. Look dangerous. Jacoby, as he hesitantly sat in the wooden chair Noah had beckoned him toward, decided this advice did not apply to the Negotiator - a predator that _preferred_ his victims to hiss and claw back.

Ernest tossed his homburg hat onto the floor. He wanted his hands free ... just in case the situation became violent. Perhaps, who knows, he could outdraw Noah and shoot him ... or, if that didn't work, perhaps he'd poke the significantly stronger man's eyes out and flee swiftly. Then collect his family and drive _far_ from New York City and they'll all live happily-ever-after some place south- a place with a significantly warmer climate pattern and a woeful absence of Noah Reeds.

Perhaps conversing would alleviate Jacoby anxieties. The Negotiator was being uncharacteristically quiet and he found that realization ... disturbing.

"How did the lady fare?" Ernest asked as Noah claimed his place on the wooden stool before him. He had been truly curious over Booker's blue-eyed lover's ... 'exchange' with the Negotiator. Her last-minute invitation of Vincenzo had been awfully suspicious.

"Wonderfully," Noah responded ambiguously, smirking at his subordinate, "however ... we were interrupted by Mr. DeWitt."

Ernest became silent, deciding that conversation would not ease his nerves. Not even slightly. Now that the two men were sitting in front of each other, Jacoby couldn't even look as his employer, much less converse with him.

"I'll tell you where we found him," Reed declared with a sly smirk, "just outside Hotel Astor."

Jacoby heard the unspoken accusation. He had, after all, been the one to tell Booker to search for Reed at Hotel Astor. Suddenly, his hands clenched into fists. For reasons beyond Ernest's understanding, rage poured out of his soul. Perhaps the day had been filled with too many sickening twists and turns. Perhaps the Negotiator's ridiculous personality had finally destroyed his patience. Perhaps the prolonged sense of fear he had been experiencing finally popped an important blood vessel within his brain. Whatever the cause, Jacoby found himself overwhelmed with rage and ... courage.

"You're correct, sir! I told DeWitt! I made a hasty judgment during a moment of action!" Ernest snapped as he leapt upward, knocking the wooden chair over, "you left the three of us with one of the most skilled combat specialists we've ever targeted ... what did you suspect would happen?!"

Jacoby's bold display forced Noah's smirk to deepen. The mustached man took two steps to the left, so filled with frustrated energy that he couldn't stand still. His eyes were wide ... frantic.

"He attacked us and was about to shoot a defenseless Piero in the skull and I ... I told him where you may be in exchange for our lives," Ernest continued, voice filled with thunder, pointing an accusing finger toward Noah, "we failed to handle him so I attempted to divert the task to you! You're the Negotiator! You're the one who wanted to claim that poor girl before, not after, DeWitt left for Buffalo, and you're the one that provoked DeWitt into a state of despicable madness before snatching his woman before his very eyes ... ! I ... I loathe to admit to this, but, we needed Vincenzo ... he was the one of all of us best suited for - "

"-I killed him. - "

"-keeping DeWitt ... you _what_?" Ernest asked, instantly losing his line of thought.

Noah smiled at how effortlessly three words had dissolved Jacoby's zealous monologue.

"I killed Vincenzo," Reed clarified before mischievously announcing, "regrettably, he may not be the only loss my organization suffers this day."

The words threatened to suck Ernest's newfound courage straight from his heart. Yes, he had anticipated the possibility of death ... still, the Negotiator's admission had produced a sense of shock from the troubled criminal.

Jacoby made a valiant attempt to gather back his bravery and wits before asking: "Is this it, then? Are you going to kill me? Because I revealed your location to Booker?"

Noah tilted his head to the side, still smiling, but offered no verbal response. Perhaps Reed's silence allowed the resurgence of Ernest's fierce anger.

"Because ... because I didn't hastily scalp the poor man?! You ... you never ask me to commit acts of brutality! Lord knows I don't possess your degree of violence and I admitted to you the first day we interacted with DeWitt that I found myself sympathetic to him," Jacoby argued loudly, becoming overwhelmed by his own raucous rants, "is _that_ my crime? _Sympathy_? Is sympathy within your syndicate truly worthy of mortal punishment? With all proper respect, I am far too aged for your games! Why I'm ... I'm over fifteen years your senior! - "

"-Ernest. Sit. Before these little outbursts of yours become insulting rather than amusing."

"I will not!" Jacoby shouted.

A dangerous, silent moment passed between the two men as they observed each other. Underneath the weight of the Negotiator's quiet stare, Ernest recalled he was speaking to a man that had been torturing and murdering people by the age of thirteen. The mustached man now regretted this small act of defiance.

Noah was the one to slay the silence with a sharp, heavy laugh.

"I will sit but I am very frustrated about it!" Jacoby announced testily before the humored huffs ended, grabbing the fallen wooden chair and once again sitting before his sadistic employer.

"Ernest," the Negotiator called out when he managed to subdue his laughter, eyeing the frustrated criminal, "it's true ... you're soft, and are certainly far more suited for tasks requiring intelligence and tact, not savagery."

"Then _why _pressure me to perform such an act? Just to toy with me?"

"I tested you out of _necessity, _Ernest. Necessity. You're one of two men that know my personal address - the place I sleep during the night, the place I've made supreme efforts to keep secret and secure. If you were to volunteer such information to Booker DeWitt as readily as you volunteered the location of my preferred hotel for bedding women.- "

"- I'd ... I'd never - "

"- I truly do not want Booker DeWitt, of all men, to know where I retire each evening. At Time's Square, he successfully shot a cigarette I held in my hand from a one-hundred foot distance. "

"Truly?" Ernest inquired, jolted.

"Truly," Reed confirmed, smirking, "I subsequently offered him employment."

" ... _truly_?"

Noah chuckled softly before stating: "You were correct all along; the value of his combat skills far exceeds the value of his debt. He'll be permitted to pay off the monetary deficit on a contract basis."

Jacoby was struggling to absorb all this information. Vincenzo was dead ... DeWitt was going to be allowed to work off his debt ... and Reed seems to have accepted his desperate explanations for today's earlier betrayals. Perhaps this was turning out to be a ... good day?

Ernest felt puzzled. This whole situation was bizarre. Something seemed askew. Could Reed's meeting with Booker's bewitching companion have something to do with this odd twist of events? He looked at Noah, and realized the tall criminal's eyes were without focus. The man was distracted, though still wearing a slight, odd smile.

"Sir?" Jacoby pressed.

"Hm," Noah sighed mirthfully, gazing toward Ernest, "DeWitt forces such ... conflicting desires within me. The businessman in me wants to apply a proper harness on him and profit off of his destructive potential. Yet my ... playful side, continues to be enamored by the thought of killing such a violent celebrity."

"The depths of your insanity has somehow ceased surprising me," Ernest muttered.

Reed chuckled as his attentions returned to Jacoby's bloodied forehead.

"Now that you've calmed ... let's treat this head wound of yours."

Jacoby silently watched his employer reach into the medicine bag. He decided not to focus on the cryptic bag - the duplicity of its contents, knives and medical supplies, would only resurrect his anxieties. Instead, he focused on the stool Reed had sat upon. He found himself musing over its surprising level of sturdiness. Supporting Noah's weight - possibly approaching three-hundred pounds - was no small feat. What a diligent stool. What a courageous stool. A defiant stool that laughed at the Negotiator's heftiness. Lesser stools would have collapsed beneath this tremendous undertaking, but no, not this stool ... This was a stool that held fast to its principles -

"I've one final anecdote for you, Ernest," Noah announced, interrupting Jacoby's nonsensical musings. Medical supplies had indeed been the items selected for removal from the Negotiator's bag; he was currently dampening a cloth with saline solution.

"Could whatever it may be possibly be more surprising than Vincenzo's death or your newest employee ... " Jacoby responded dryly, eyes shifting from the Stool of Wonder toward the Negotiator's gloved hands.

"Oh, it was quite a surprise," Reed admitted with a sly smile before lightly dabbing the cloth along the sanguine portrait of Ernest's dried blood, "any ominous symptoms, Mr. Jacoby? Nausea? Visual disturbances? Difficulty with balance ... ?"

"No ... just an unavoidable headache," Ernest answered hastily before thinking it over and adding: "my sight went white for a brief moment, but has since functioned normally."

As Reed's actions started to unveil the wound, he suddenly became curious by it ... "what caused this wound?"

"An iron pan," Jacoby answered without prudence.

" ... An iron pan," Noah repeated casually, though his actions paused, "odd, my recollection of DeWitt's apartment does not include the presence of such an item."

Ernest felt his heart quicken; he actively ignored the urge to tug at his mustache.

"DeWitt ... fetched it from within the stove."

The Negotiator eased back far enough from the smaller man to look him in the eyes; he was unsurprised by the sight of fear within them.

"So," Reed, though smiling, adopted an accusatory tone, "explain to me why a man that punches fiercely enough to knock the likes of Piero and yourself offbalance with a single blow felt the need to secure his hidden pan during a confrontation with_ three armed men_."

Ernest swallowed, staring back at Reed with widened eyes. Several emotions, fear being the most potent, screamed within his mind.

"You didn't tangle with Booker at all, did you, my friend?"

_This is it then. _

Jacoby, with all the speed he could muster, attempted to reach into his jacket to draw his pistol. His hands barely managed to slip beneath the fabric of his suitjacket before Noah's powerful grip snagged each of his wrists.

"Now, now, Ernest," Reed scolded, effortlessly pulling the smaller criminal's hand away from that pistol, "you were doing so_ well_ ... you bravely revealed your emotions regarding your earlier display of disobedience, explained the Hotel Astor situation with both honesty and passion ... "

As Noah spoke, Jacoby's struggles continued. He attempting to jerk his wrists free of the Negotiator's grip. Ultimately, while Jacoby's desperate efforts left himself red-faced and breathing softly, Reed's excessive strength and nonchalant expression made the conflict's futility painfully clear.

"But now you've foiled your own efforts with this ... _ridiculous_ attempt at deception. Truly, I'm disappointed. Now, cease struggling ... and I'll be kind."

Ernest gazed at Noah as a crippling sense of despair seized him. From personal experience, he knew when the Negotiator made small offers such as this, it was in a man's best interest to instantly accept them. The defeated man allowed his arms to grow limp within his captor's hold.

"Did either Karl or Piero assist you with this deception?" Reed inquired, releasing one of Ernest's wrists so he could reach into the man's suitjacket and grab that pistol.

"No," Jacoby responded weakly, "I checked them first ... DeWitt had stunned them both, so I performed the deed on my own. - I ... I should have used one of the beer bottles, though I feared slicing myself ..."

"Perhaps you shouldn't have self-inflicted any sort of blunt trauma," Noah suggested with a small chuckle, tossing both Ernest's gun and the dampened cloth into the corner of the room, "I sincerely wish I could have witnessed it. Care to perform a reenactment for me?"

"You're a prick ... sir," Jacoby muttered back quietly. The man figured he was about to die anyway ... may as well be forward.

Reed presented a smile that sickened the mustached man. That grip on Ernest's right wrist tightened as the Negotiator reached into his medicine bag to retrieve one of his knives: a thin, four-inch long knife with a wickedly sharp edge.

_Forgive this lowly sinner, Lord ..._

"As you're well-aware, knives have always been my preferred tool for murder. They're exact instruments ... possessing its wielder's precision. I decide the length of the slices, the depths of the stabs," as he spoke, he began tugging back Ernest's sleeves to expose that wrist he held, " ... I can flay skin, sever vessels and hack off limbs with appropriate blades. To inflict agony ... to grant painless deaths, all within my power."

"Wait, wait ... " Jacoby pleaded as Reed lifted the blade to his wrist, "I've ... I've something to tell you!"

"Mm?"

" ... I've an admission to make," Ernest breathed, "of a ... a betrayal you endured long before this business with DeWitt ..."

Noah smiled as he tapped the flat end of his blade against Ernst's wrist, then asked: "has our entire history been littered with betrayals that I've failed to notice?"

"I ... It needs to be said," Ernest admitted miserably, "it's ... quite a tale, and it ... still tortures me."

Reed eyed the smaller criminal for a moment before speaking: "A story authored by desperation, perhaps?"

"No," then the deflated criminal sucked in a deep breath, staring at the knife at his wrist, "it's truth, I swear ... "

"I do confess that tales of ... torture, intrigue me," the Negotiator chuckled, "go on, then."

Jacoby gathered all the emotional strength he had left before beginning: "I've tried to cast my years with the Galucci mafia from my mind ... Giovanni was a ... difficult man to work for, to say the least. At his worst ... more difficult than dealing with your repulsive antics."

Ernest lightly bit the inside of his cheek as he recalled Giovanni's sadistic nature. _Of course_ there were similarities between the former mob boss and the Negotiator: brutish strength, a lust for violence ... but there was also a significant deviation between them. Where Giovanni's ruthless violence seemed fueled by anger and dark-hearted cruelty ... Reed's sadism was accompanied by a wicked sense of humor and a penchant for psychological torment. Where Giovanni would knock out a man's teeth and, with a sneer, watch him choke on blood and enamel ... Noah would sooner pluck out each individual tooth and make his enemy swallow them, laughing the entire time.

The image of Booker DeWitt suddenly popped into Ernest's mind. Could the White Injun stand among these two loathsome beings, as Reed suspected? Was it possible? Could he truly be similar to Giovanni ... or secretly like Noah? Or perhaps he had a unique version of violence ...

"Best begin; I'm not feeling particularly patient today ... I've much to do," Reed urged, giving Jacoby's wrist a small squeeze.

Ernest sighed deeply as he mused over the past. There were so many mistakes ... so many tragedies - joining the Galucci Mafia was certainly one of the greatest.

" ... there were rumors of you," the nauseated criminal revealed, "rumors that Giovanni had a protégé he was rather fascinated with. Rumors that you were strong and extremely violent. There were conflicts among the rumors ... some said you needed money for your family, others said you were without parents and would have been homeless if Giovanni hadn't invited you to live at the Galucci estate ... I've never sought out all the truths of you but there were two undeniable realities of the situation: Giovanni was obsessed with sculpting you into a powerful murderer, and you, for personal reasons, were willing to do what he asked."

"Fun times, fun times ... " Noah remarked with a soft chuckle.

"Honestly, I didn't think much of the situation until Giovanni gave me the task of being your tutor. He claimed you were smart, truly smart, but during adolescence you were denied a proper education. Then he invited me to a safehouse for a most ... disturbing introduction. There was a bound, gagged man within it and you, of course. Even back then you were tall and ... fairly muscular. I thought you were a man. I thought I was being tasked with educating a grown man ... sometimes I think the Lord himself wanted to deny you a proper childhood ... having your body grow so quickly."

Jacoby found himself pausing after this comment. He nervously eyed the Negotiator for a quiet moment ... expecting some sort of clarifying interjection from the other man, but none came. There was a taste of bile in the back of his throat. He swallowed it down ... thinking it would be an improper time to vomit on his employer.

"Giovanni had you ... beat the defenseless man to death. With your bare hands. You performed the task silently, spiritlessly. You hit him until your knuckles bled and his breathing stopped ... I was uncomfortable witnessing this, but I noticed ... as Giovanni sat there, smirking and complimenting your violent performance, I realized he was having you claim this life for his ... amusement. Sickening, truly ... sickening."

"I did not understand the man in my youth," Noah admitted with amusement, "I do now."

Jacoby, sadly and wordlessly, reviewed the implications of Reed's words before continuing: "When you finished killing the man, Giovanni surprised the both of us. He approached you with a severe, nasty expression on his face. I can't remember his exact words ... - "

"- I certainly do," Noah interrupted suddenly, "I recall them in their entirety. He asked me, '_Who did you just kill?_' ... he hadn't provided me the identities of any of the men I had murdered at his behest, so the question confused me. He pressed on: '_who did you just kill? Was this a guilty man? An innocent man? Who were his employers? Will they come after you? Did he have a family? Will his sons seek vengeance? Who were his friends?_' ... That's the moment he drew his gun and pointed it between my eyes before asking, _'what if he was my friend, Noah? What if you just killed my friend?' _... "

Noah motioned his knife-wielding hand toward Ernest. It took the smaller criminal a moment to realize the Negotiator was encouraging him to once again take the reigns of the narration.

" ... then he started beating you with his gun, shouting at you for killing his supposed 'friend' the entire time ... It was brutal; I thought he meant to kill you. He broke your nose ... bloodied your face, dislocated your jaw ... "

"Do you recall what he said to me afterwards?" Reed asked with a faint smile.

"Know all your enemies; know them entirely," Ernest answered quietly.

"It was the greatest lesson anyone's ever taught me," the Negotiator admitted. That night had been the reason why Noah, either with or without Ernest's assistance, would spend hours each day obsessively gathering information on the city's various mafias and its members. Names weren't enough ... he wanted it all: birthdates, phone numbers, addresses, lovers, family members, friends ... Giovanni's words remained within his mind with potent resonance, though Reed himself wasn't sure if this was due to the value of the lesson itself or the shocking brutality of its deliverance.

"Carry on, Ernest."

" ... I didn't understand Giovanni's twisted fascination with you until later, when he revealed your age with a fond laugh. Thirteen. A thirteen year-old stronger, taller and thicker than your average man. He smiled and chuckled as he spoke of you ... he wondered if you'd just grow and grow ... become stronger and stronger. I was so disgusted by it ... Who'd senselessly beat a boy for an imaginary crime, simply to make a point? Who'd have a boy murder for entertainment purposes? You weren't a sadistic monster back then ... I daresay you perhaps appeared sad, when you murdered that man," Ernest sucked in a deep breath as the wetness within his eyes began to seep out of them, "forgive me; I ... I can't continue ... "

"Mm," Reed sighed, amused. Of course sweet little Ernest would hint at an unknown betrayal and share enough of this story to intrigue the Negotiator before attempting to quit mid-tale.

"Just ... do the deed," Jacoby murmured despairingly. He didn't want the final moments of his life to be focused on Noah, so he turned his thoughts to his wife. His loving wife. With her curly apple-colored hair and warm smiles. With her soft belly and shrill laughter ... at the onset of their romance he had secretly found her laughs grating but now preferred them over all other sounds of this world. Then his thoughts moved on to his three children. He was so very, very proud of them. All smart and healthy ... his eldest son was noble, his other son was kind and his daughter, the youngest, Abigail, was very clever.

His sadistic employer would interrupt those comforting thoughts.

"Mind holding this for me?" Reed asked as he released Ernest's wrist, performed a quick little flip of his knife and caught the blade so the handle was pointing toward Ernest.

_Another test? ... another game?_ Ernest wondered. His breath hitched as he stared at the weapon. What if it's a trick? Was Noah about to slice him? If he took the knife presented to him ... could he possibly stab the muscular criminal with enough speed and force to inflict a fatal wound? This ... emotional outpouring, despite all of Reed's not-so-subtle threats, somehow felt like an inappropriate time to attempt to kill him ... but Jacoby so desperately wanted to return home to his wife and children.

With his free-hand, Ernest slowly accepted the Negotiator's knife and held it firmly.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The warm shower-water provided Elizabeth moderate comfort.

She mentally reviewed the events of the day. Much had happened ... and a significant portion of these happenings were ugly twists in her life.

The callous, animalistic sex she just had with Booker was at the forefront of her mind. DeWitt, the only lover she's ever had, never touched her like that before ... with passion but without affection. And while on a physical level she couldn't claim immunity to the forceful passion they shared ... the emotional implications crippled her heart. Was he capable of becoming an abusive lover? Her neck still felt sore ... she imagined light bruising would soon appear.

She started to compare Emerson's and DeWitt's jealousy-inspired crimes. Suddenly the thoughts began to sicken her and she shoved them from her mind.

Again, she wondered if it was a mistake to come to this particular realm. She reminded herself of why she came here. This version of Booker ... reminded her the most of the sad, broken man that had slaughtered an entire colony of people to rescue her. This Booker also ... needed her. More than many others. And she'd like to think that she truly could heal the wounds of his soul and keep him from both violence and an early death.

She thought of the words he had murmured from outside the bathroom door. A sincere plea to speak with her, an apology ... a promise that it'd never happen again.

Yes... he could be saved. She believed it with all her soul.

There was also Anna. She had already accepted Anna as her own. She did not like the thought of abandoning the tiny girl, even if her father had a significant number of flaws. Elizabeth was suddenly wondering how bizarre her relationship with the child would become as she aged and the adoptive daughter looked strikingly similar to her adoptive mother. It's an issue she had, of course, already mused over ... but at the moment she had no answer for how she planned to address it to both Booker and his daughter as she grew.

There was a soft sigh when the shower's water began to run cool. Perhaps it was time to confront Booker. The pale girl scrubbed her body with a soap-saturated cloth once more. It was mental, she thinks, all that imaginary filth that encouraged a repeat cleansing of her own body.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Booker paused cleaning when he heard the shower water stop.

When he heard the creak of the bathroom door opening, he stepped into his bedroom to confront Elizabeth.

She glared at him. Of course she would glare, that didn't surprise him at all, but it felt like an unavoidable punch to the gut. The wet female adjusted the towel wrapped across her body, making sure none of her feminine portions were available to his eyes. It felt vaguely insulting to Booker. It was a body he's already seen and touched hundreds of times ... did she think the sight of her would mount uncontrollable urges within him?

He sighed sadly. Perhaps she had every right to distrust him. Perhaps they were back at square one. Well, perhaps he would do a better job of being a man this time.

"Are you ... ok?" Booker asked gingerly.

"I don't want you in here right now," she announced as she stepped toward the closet to pull out her only nightgown.

With her back turned, the sight of the puncture wound on her upper back once again revealed itself to the ex-soldier. He found himself stepping toward her, curious. It still looked ... fairly fresh. Certainly not like a puncture wound that had occurred months ago.

"Elizabeth ... "

"Don't come near me," she warned.

More words that felt like physical strikes; DeWitt swallowed his despair.

"Honestly, Elizabeth," he said gently, "there's something wrong with the wound on your back. Can I take a quick look at it?"

The troubled girl paused ... she reached a hand behind her own back, attempting to touch it. In fact, she actually didn't feel it at all unless she arched her back in a certain way, so she didn't think about it very often.

"Is it infected ... ?" she asked finally.

Booker considered this consent to take a look at the wound. He stepped behind her and crouched down so he could observe it closely.

The ex-soldier wasn't a doctor, but when you have a long history of violence you get familiar with the body's healing patterns.

"Have you been scratching it?" DeWitt asked.

"Not at all."

He sniffed for the scent of infection, but all he could smell was soap.

"I don't think it's infected, but I'm still worried about it," Booker confessed, "perhaps we should take you to a hospital ... or a specialist."

Elizabeth frowned. She tried not to think of the tortures she endured in Columbia ... tried not to think of whatever they did to her that would produce a wound that couldn't heal properly...

"Don't be silly; we have no money," Elizabeth finally responded.

The comment struck both sadness and hope within Booker. No, they had no money, but she used the word 'we' ... and it made him think she still had plans to have a future with him.

"Can you turn around?" she asked, "I want to get dressed."

"Sure," he responded quietly, taking a few steps and politely turning his vision the opposite direction of her body.

"So ... the apartment's a mess," she pointed out as she removed her towel and began to slide into her nightgown.

"I'm going to clean it."

"What happened?" Elizabeth asked. Of course, she had her powers, and she knew exactly what happened ... but she wasn't supposed to know such things, and besides ... seeing what details people would and wouldn't remember, and what they would lie about, always interested her.

"I was worried about you ... and Reed's thugs were- ... the young one was taunting me."

"The cute one, you mean?" she asked casually ... testing to see if pointing out Piero's good-looks would throw Booker into another ridiculous, jealous rage.

" ... I didn't find him cute," DeWitt responded, "maybe because he kept aiming his gun at me and saying 'bang' ... maybe because I don't think of other men that way."

"So, you attacked first?"

"I did; I ... needed to find you, Elizabeth," he confessed.

"Did you kill any of them?"

"No."

"If you would have just relaxed like I asked you, we'd be debt-free right now," Elizabeth pointed out with a sigh, turning to face the ex-Pinkerton's back.

"Elizabeth, you're ... you're smart, and capable, but you're also young and ... well, innocent. Reed's a violent, seasoned criminal. I still haven't figured out why you thought you could bargain with him."

The words irritated her. Partially because there was some truth in it. She had used death threats on a man unafraid of death and achieved poor results. In a sense, the words further inspired her anger with Noah. She's find a harsher way to make her point next time she waltzed with the Negotiator.

Or simply kill him.

"I _needed_ you to trust me, Booker-"

"- you make it ... really difficult. You're hiding things from me, you won't share your plans -

"-instead you've sold your soul to the devil," her annoyance reflected within her tone, " ... and you've offered to do violent, dangerous work for him. What happens to Anna and I if you're killed?"

"I'd rather it be me in his hands than you ... I thought he might hurt you, Elizabeth," DeWitt explained.

"He didn't; you did," she responded without hesitance, folding her arms about her chest.

There was a painful pause to the conversation.

"Elizabeth ... can I turn around?"

The female ignored his request and continued: "you ran about New York City attacking people and waving around your gun ... that's madness, Booker. That's insanity. And then you ... involved me in your insanity."

" ... Reed ... he got under my skin ... "

"And peeled it right off," she murmured sadly, "was that the true you, Booker?"

"He ... had his men hold me down, threatened to mutilate me ... threatened to touch Anna," DeWitt argued, struggling to keep himself from raising his voice, "you weren't there, Elizabeth. You don't ... understand."

The frustrated girl sighed thoughtfully. Her lover was making a noble effort to rectify the situation.

"He said he'd convince you to leave me," the ex-Pinkerton added softly, eyes casting downward.

"You truly believe I'd leave you for a man like Noah Reed?"

Booker didn't have the heart to explain his fears to her. He had noticed Reed's behavior change that occurred the moment Elizabeth interrupted their brawl hours ago - insults and threats were quickly replaced with polite bows and smooth compliments. Noah also exuded success, confidence ...

Then there was that muscular body; DeWitt knew first-hand that Elizabeth was attracted to such physiques.

"I don't think you realize what a monster he is," he answered.

Elizabeth bit her lip, wondering exactly how deeply Reed had burrowed himself within Booker's mind. She examined the spots of Noah-blood on Booker's shirt; she wondered if he considered those stains a medal.

"I do; he's despicable. - I must ask another question."

"Ya?

"Am I not allowed to leave you?"

Elizabeth almost didn't ask this, fearing his answer, but the hiss of the word 'mine' was echoing within her ear, and Emerson's cold-hearted order for the murder of his wife's lover was still fresh in her mind. No, she did not want to leave him, but she still expected her wishes to be respected. She didn't want Booker grabbing her and shouting at her in public or dragging her into the bedroom during bursts of insane jealousy.

The ex-soldier mulled it over despondently before answering honestly: " ... Not for him ... if you found a good man that would treat you well ... I'd be okay with it. I ... can't say I'd be thrilled, but ... you deserve to be happy. "

Elizabeth's heart warmed. It was an acceptable answer. In fact ... it was pretty close to perfect. There was a soft sigh before she told him: "I'm still very mad at you."

"I'm sorry," he repeated, "I'd like to look at you and say so."

"All right ... " she consented after some hesitation.

Booker turned. It was strange; the sight of her seemed to save him and destroy him at once. He mused over all the qualities she had that he cherished: the kindness, the intelligence, the beauty, those eyes ...

Were there qualities he had that she would miss? He thinks whatever the number is, it's too small. When he came back, he'd provide her more.

"Truly, Elizabeth," he murmured gently, "it won't happen again. No matter what does or doesn't happen in our future. I promise."

The conflicted girl found herself reaching forward to take his large, calloused hands into her own. Eager to keep her touch, he wrapped his fingers about hers.

" ... When you come back from Buffalo," she said in a hushed tone, "you're going to remind me that you're capable of being gentle."

"I will; I'm sorry, Eizabeth."

She felt Booker lightly squeeze her hands.

The beginnings of forgiveness formed within her steadily beating heart.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_Stab him in the eye ... stab him in the eye. It's probably the only place on that damn body of his soft enough to accept a blade ... _But Jacoby's mental urgings failed to convince his hand to cooperate.

Noah was smiling, as though daring Ernest to make a move. He casually slipped a hand into his suitjacket, pulling out a thin case from an inner pocket and removing a cigarette from it.

"Charming story so far, my friend," Reed teased, lighting his cigarette, "is there a happy ending?"

"You know there isn't," Jacoby murmured.

Ernest loathed the man's supreme confidence. Here they were, Jacoby with a weapon and the Negotiator with a nicotine-stick, and the tall criminal was acting so casual you'd think he considered himself invincible. Or perhaps he thought Ernest incapable of killing him.

"Care to exchange?" Noah asked, extending his cigarette-wielding hand toward the emotionally-exhausted criminal.

"Do I ... have a choice?"

"No."

They exchanged the cigarette for the knife. Jacoby, as he scolded himself for not even attempting to kill Reed with the blade, slid that cigarette into his mouth and inhaled deeply. Bizarrely, this short intermission, along with the removal of the blade from his wrist, had allowed him to calm marginally. Jacoby couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he stopped leaking tears ... but his eyes were still red and his face was now moist with sweat.

"I'm enjoying this story," Noah revealed before insisting, "I'm eager to hear its conclusion."

Jacoby sighed. He briefly contemplated refusing ... but history dictates that victims who refused Noah's demands were far worse off than the more cooperative ones.

"After the eve of your ... violent lesson at Giovanni's hands, I was to bring you to my home twelve hours daily to educate you. You were an apt pupil, with a quiet, serious personality - the absolute opposite of what you are now," Ernest felt the need to point out that Noah hadn't always possessed that insane sense of humor, just in case the Negotiator had forgotten he almost had a normal personality at one time, " ... Martha was instantly sympathetic to you, for your face was swollen with awful bruises. In private, I admitted your age to her and she shrieked and cried ... She asked about your situation and I .. feigned ignorance ... "

A moment of silence. For a small time, thoughts of his wife, Martha, distracted Jacoby. He silently wondered if he'd see her or his kids again. When was the last time he had said 'I love you' to the four of them? They had all been asleep when he left for work this morning ... did he say the words to them yesterday?

"Go on," Reed instructed impatiently.

"... As time went by," Ernest continued, "Giovanni apparently wanted someone to share his secret joy of you with, for he began to invite me to many of your late-night performances. I've no understanding of how your mind and body endured the constant challenges he set before you ... the boxing lessons, the kills, those brutal teachings ... Pity swelled within me as I watched you ... perform for him and I ... "

Another pause here ... one that included a long drag from that cigarette.

"I suddenly found myself imagining rescuing Giovanni's solemn boy-gladiator. Months went by, and I continued to witness this ... physical and psychological abuse. I tried to summon the courage to interfere, but Giovanni ... had no qualms about killing men who offended him and I ... I was too frightened to act."

Noah's smirk deepened. Ernest's fear of Giovanni was certainly justified - the man had no qualms killing _any_ man ... employee or otherwise.

"When Martha became pregnant with our first son, thoughts of fatherhood gave me strength. I resolved to finally remove you from his clutches. I conjured a plan: I would tell Giovanni your education was going poorly, and that you should reside within my home so I might teach you from dawn until dusk. I revealed two truths to Martha: that you lived with Giovanni and that he was regularly beating you. I ... elected not to tell her of all the violence you committed at his command, fearing she would deny you."

"You lie to Martha often, don't you?" Reed assumed with a smirk.

"Please don't speak my wife's name ... "

"As you wish."

" ... Martha ... embraced my plan ... she found you to be a polite, respectful boy and thought you'd make a wonderful older brother for our first child. So it was decided. 'This will be the night,' I told myself as the three of us entered another safehouse to, again, watch you kill a grown man. I stood beside Giovanni as you began your violent task. As I ... as I sought the appropriate words to convince Giovanni that you should rehome with me, I noticed ... something I had never seen before: your smile," Ernest's eyes once again began to water, "you were smiling ... as you killed this new man. The sight of it ... stole my nerve. I said nothing to Giovanni that night."

Jacoby sucked another deep drag from that cigarette, attempting to control his tears, before speaking: "The next day, your education with me continued. You were as well-mannered as usual, with no sign of the previous day's inclination for violence, and I ... I decided I should continue with my plan of rescuing you from him. Another safehouse, another night where a thirteen year-old boy was destined to murder for his foul employer. I moved beside Giovanni, who was verbally encouraging your violence, and as I opened my mouth to speak ... I heard your laughter. I froze ... and listened as you quietly mocked your dying victim."

Jacoby pointedly refused to look at Noah for the remainder of the tale. He had often wondered what life may have been like if he had successfully adopted Reed long before he could earn that notorious title: the Negotiator.

"At this point, I knew it in my heart: I was too late," another regretful pause, "your mind was gone; murder was now bringing smiles and laughs from you. I could not ... I could not beckon you into the home that was about to see the birth of my first child," the saddened story-teller admitted as he wiped at his dripping eyes and nose, "I did, indeed, speak with Giovanni that night ... but I instead told him ... you were a remarkable student that had learned quickly, and that I no longer saw the need to bring you into my home for any further lessons."

There was a heftiness to Ernest's despair. He still couldn't look toward Reed. He assumed that abominable smirk was on the sadist's face ... and the thought that Noah might be entirely immune to his words crushed him.

Noah would have surprised him. There was only a slight smile on his face, no sinister smirk. There was no controlling his absurd sense of humor. Loki, he would tell people. Loki was the source of his despicable drollery.

"What did your wife say?" Reed inquired.

" ... I lied to her. I told her I extended you an offer to join our home, and that you refused it."

"That's quite a story, dear Ernest ... " as that smirk finally began to reveal itself, "to think all that supposed sympathy of yours would become feelings of loathing."

Jacoby's stomach twisted.

"I do not hate you, Noah. - "

"- A desperate lie," Reed accused.

Ernest found himself quivering - his lips, his hands ... it made smoking difficult.

" ... Let there be no misunderstanding between us, Noah ... your actions disgust me ... I .. I absolutely believe you deserve death for the hundreds of atrocities you've committed. But I remember that sad boy, when I look at you ... and all the hatred I feel is aimed toward myself."

Noah cocked his head to the side, still smirking.

Ernest offered a heart-broken elaboration: "I was the only one who knew ... the only one that could have helped you. I-I've spent my whole life begging for God's forgiveness ... yet I never once had the strength to properly request yours-"

"-Quite all right. There's no need for apologies, my friend. With Giovanni's guidance, I turned out wonderfully," Noah responded as a hand quickly snapped forward to once again grab and tug Ernest's exposed wrist outward, "perhaps the knowledge I'm about to impart with you will heal the wounds of your soul-"

"-Noah," the surprised criminal called out. That cigarette slipped from his hand, and his chest heaved with a breathless, fearful sob. Again, those eyes closed as he felt the point of Reed's knife touch his wrist.

"Your plan to ... oh, rescue me was futile and foolish," the Negotiator informed with a chuckle, "look at me, my dear friend ... look at me._"_

Jacoby, trembling, opened his eyes. Noah stared directly into them with the deepest of smirks.

"Futile and foolish," Reed repeated as he playfully traced a vertical line along that wrist, "Giovanni would have _never_ released me ... not to your care or anyone else's."

"Noah, I - "

"- have I eased your frail heart?"

The light came first, suddenly and brightly. It blinded both men when it flashed within the three windows of the safehouse.

Ernest blinked. He thinks it wasn't real. He thinks smacking his own forehead with a pan may have had unexpected consequences. But Noah's reaction - the tensing of posture and muscle, the snapping of narrowed eyes toward one of the windows - tells him it happened.

He had just enough time to wonder if the Negotiator had intended to pounce and stab the light itself. Then the sound of shattering glass pierced through his shrivled sense of sanity. A fierce wind, a potent mix of moisture, howls and force, poured into the safehouse and swirled about them.

Noah had been so preoccupied with nature's violent intrusion that he was unprepared for Ernest's wild response. There was a startled cry from the mustached man. Reed flexed his wrist to avoid slicing or impaling Jacoby who, already jittery from the anticipation of death, instinctively leapt forward into the knife-wielding criminal. The floundering man smacked roughly against the Negotiator's body - or perhaps against a tall pile of bricks wrapped in skin. He wasn't entirely sure.

Besides the windows, there would be one more victim of Elizabeth's divine intervention: the Stool of Wonder, unable to endure Ernest and Noah's combined weight, cracked and snapped apart. Both men toppled to the floor.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

As Booker took a much-needed shower, Elizabeth was left lurking within the apartment with nothing more than her dark thoughts. Her anger felt like an ocean wave - curling, smacking and crawling across the shore before inevitably receding.

Love had a funny effect on people. So did hatred.

Elizabeth had no doubt both emotions had fueled Booker's earlier rage ... And now, violent memories were stirred. She recalled a similar rage - it led to DeWitt bashing Comstock's skull against marble until it split apart ... it led to a perturbing promise to strangle an infant. She didn't think anyone would be able to invoke as much fury from Booker as his own baptized, villainous self ...

And those thoughts brought her to the Negotiator.

To say he was infuriating was an understatement.

Was he even capable of obedience? Had he paid off Booker's debt per her command? She wanted her lover's liability to be taken care of _immediately_ ... regardless of the ridiculous arrangement DeWitt had made with Noah.

She used her powers ... Her sight that could transcend time and space. As her familiarity with Noah grew, it was becoming easier to find him. It took less than a minute to spy him in his small safehouse with a very frightened Ernest.

Reed was holding a sharp blade against his trembling subordinate's wrist.

The sympathetic female gasped. Then, again, that tide of anger seized her. She had remembered Jacoby's kindness when presenting Noah her list of demands back at the pier earlier in the afternoon ... and she had explicitly told the Negotiator that the kind man was to be spared.

Several ideas emerged in her mind to put an end to the potentially violent scenario. Some were instantly rejected - she wouldn't appear there in person and reveal herself to Jacoby ... it was too suspicious to simply tug Noah out of the room and shift him elsewhere. The only quick and feasible plan she could come up with was an intervention that resembled a natural one.

First, she used her space-twisting powers to smash apart the glass windows. It would produce a light similar to the ones which had fastened themselves to Vincenzo's wrists when she displaced his hands ... and Elizabeth was certain the clever Negotiator would instantly recognize this fact.

Then, she reached through time and space to pluck a portion of a particularly nasty tempest to hurl upon that unassuming safehouse after shattering those windows.

Elizabeth watched the two men's opposing instinctive reactions: Reed's anticipation and Jacoby's fear. Ernest leapt into Reed and that valiant stool broke. Both men fell. Noah quickly shoved Ernest off his body as the furious wind shrieked through the walls of the safehouse. It was only a miniature storm, not exactly fierce enough to toss about grown men or consume the walls of the safehouse ... but it certainly put an end to the dramatic confrontation.

Reed held onto his glasses as he stood upward. Ernest crawled into the corner of the room, mumbling a prayer. Deciding she made her point, Elizabeth removed the storm.

It was convenient timing; Jacoby finally gave into his nausea and began puking in his sad little corner. Noah pulled a cloth from his pocket and wiped the excess moisture off his glasses, wearing a half-smile. Both men's clothes were now damp.

She continued to watch and listen to them.

_"It's ... it's a sign from God!" Ernest proclaimed, "you're ... forbidden from killing me!"_

Elizabeth, if she weren't so angry at the Negotiator, may have laughed at how close to the truth the statement was.

_"Yes ... it must be God," Noah chuckled as he stalked toward one of the broken windows, gazing out at the suspiciously quiet gray sky, "I shall immediately subscribe to a life of piety."_

_Jacoby dry-heaved before suggesting: "you should spare my life and dismiss me from your employ. God ... clearly favors me so ... you best do so before He smites you."_

_The Negotiator ignored the sickened man's words. Instead, he declared: "I discovered her name, Ernest." _

_Reed leaned into the window frame as he continued to stare outward, smirking. He knew ... somewhere, there were a pair of blue eyes gazing upon him._

"That's right, Noah," she whispered to herself, "I'm watching you."

_"Her name is Elizabeth ... and she is divine." _

"I can't wait until I have you alone, Mr. Negotiator; we need to review your 'list of offenses.' "

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

**Author's Note: ** Thanks for the support everyone! You guys have no idea how motivational reviews/votes can be. I truly, truly appreciate everyone who took the time to comment or fav!

**Shout-outs!:**

**Incidental Vegan Cannibal:** Heeey. As always, I appreciate your repeat reviewage! I love the fact that you comment on the stuff that makes you laugh, cause I honestly have no idea if my humor helps or hurts the fic. XD. You're the only one that comments on the lighter moments, so I find myself wondering if other people also like the humor or if I'm just detracting from the story(especially since I got an odd sense of humor that doesn't translate for everyone). What I'm trying to say is, you're the major reason I'm keeping the humor alive!

I gotta thank you a lot for pushing the sex scenes in a smart direction. It pleases me in particular that you enjoyed the sex scene cause I definitely had you and your critiques in mind when I wrote it. And I definitely, definitely appreciate the PMs you sent regarding how to make sure I keep the sex smart. It's both super flattering and helpful. I'm going to be pushing Elizabeth's personality in an interesting direction, so I'm gonna keep an eye on that.

(PS - was totally writing this shoutout at work and a coworker walked up behind me, read your name aloud and smacked me in the back. I incurred bodily damage thanks to you!)

**Paul Perkins: **Thank you sir! I'm glad you're enjoying the story. Lol I'm trying to keep you guys guessing! I actually try to tie information from older chapters into newer ones, so if people are ever really, really bored one day and reread the fic, they'll see the small bits of foreshadowing I put into previous chapters.

Mah. Sorry to you and my other adultfanfictionnet fans that I couldn't sneak in a sex scene in this chapter.

**Mr. Brown: **Hey my friend! I love that I can always count on your reviews. You give me strength! I'm happy as hell you enjoyed my last chapter, I wasn't sure how people would receive it. Elizabeth's and Booker's relationship definitely needs a little more healing, and DeWitt's gonna get the chance for some powerful self-reflection and backstory during his trip to Buffalo(next few chapters will be interesting to see how people respond... Eliz and Booker are gonna be temporarily in two different cities so I'm worried my number of fans will plummet. But there's compelling story mini storyarchs planned for each city during this time).

As far as Booker and Noah ... both are set up for some trouble so some hopefully juicy chapters are on the way, and on a potentially-related note, Im setting Elizabeth up for more badass moments(people seem to like badass Eliz! I think chapter six was my most popular chapter).

Thank you kindly for the continued support and the positive wishes, Mr. Brown!

**Shtoops:** I love your reviews. I love your wit. I love your Mark Twain. Of course Im grateful to hear from ya and it makes me very, very happy that you're pledging to stick with the fic. Honestly, the evolution of this story is probably just as odd as the evolution of the reviews you just mentioned!

I'm very fond of Ernest, so this chapter was oddly emotional for me to write, and I do hope readers feel for him. I've wanted to make him a blend of comedy and sincerity, which is a bit of a juxtaposition, and adding a juxtaposition to a kind-hearted criminal makes perfect sense to me. I also have a neat future planned for Karl, who is another character I really like. Possibly because my mental image of him is Ron Perlman. I like the idea of giving faces to Booker's enemies, it will hopefully make future confrontations more emotional. And since I'm admittedly not the best at writing fight scenes, the emotional aspect will hopefully help carry the scenes. That said, there's gonna be a lot more action in chapters that will be coming soon so I'm gonna try hard to make them awesome(mobster hideout siege coming soon!). I'm also consciously trying to make the sex scenes better, lol. I've gotten solid advice from reviewers - Here's hoping I improve the writing with both types of scenes.

Again Shtoops, thank you, bless you, love you, marry me, and other things.


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